


Paradise Lost and Found

by Name1



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe-Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Strangers to Friends, beach o’clock, covid sucks-lets go to the beach instead, echinoderms, hurt comfort, jilted lovers, random chance or is it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26740561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Name1/pseuds/Name1
Summary: The one where Din is left at the altar and finds more than just the beauty of nature on his lonely honeymoon.
Relationships: Cara Dune/Din Djarin, Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Din Djarin & Cara Dune
Comments: 40
Kudos: 61





	1. Monday-Thursday part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, yes. I know I said I wasn’t doing anymore AU, but uh…. I don’t know what happened. I have like 4 now :D  
> You have scarlett2u to thank for “forcing” me to write this idea (one of them is left at the altar and meets the other at the beach) :) and Lady_Vibeke for telling me so very gently that AUs are apparently a thing I ‘do’ now :)

Monday afternoon

His first impressions of Providenciales had been utterly pathetic, given he was smack dab in the middle of a tropical paradise. He’d de-planed at the small island airport and taken the shuttle by himself to the all-inclusive hotel he’d booked for his honeymoon. He sighs wearily, as once again he can't help but remember the last few days. _That had certainly not gone to plan--what a complete shit show,_ he thinks _._ The emotions swirling around in his head were like a non-stop typhoon. He couldn't narrow them down to explain how he was feeling _._ He was hurt to be sure; broken-hearted and angry at the same time, but those were things he felt in regards to _Laura_. How did he just feel himself? He was sad and lost, more than embarrassed, and left questioning his worth. He didn't feel like Din anymore. He just wanted to feel like Din.

Turks and Caicos boasted some of the most beautiful beaches in the world, but Din couldn't bring himself to care all that much. He couldn’t see past his own sorry state to see the beautiful crystal turquoise waters for what they were from the air--glancing out the windows to the islands below he felt nothing. Even in the shuttle, driving down the beach road, he just felt numb. The warmth of the humid air and the warmth of the powdered sugar sand did nothing. He grabbed his bag from the shuttle, walked to the front desk of the hotel and dreaded once again having to explain why he was here by himself. Luckily, the receptionist ignored the obvious question and handed his two keycards over without a fuss. 

He made it all the way to his hotel room 302 where the honeymoon suite was decorated with candles and rose petals (just as advertised) before breaking down again. He drank the complimentary bottle of champagne they had left chilled for the 'happy couple' straight out of the bottle, before ordering room service (since it was paid for anyway) and turned in for the night. 

His first two full days on the island were much the same, though he did force himself to make his way down to the beach. It truly was breathtaking. The third day, he allowed himself to branch out all the way to the bar that bumped up against the large saltwater pool. The amenities were quite something—he could admit that at least. The all-inclusive honeymoon package really meant _all-inclusive_ : meals, room service, spa treatments, as much alcohol you could drink, and up to three excursions a day. 

He'd chosen this island at Laura's insistence and taken great pride at planning their days and nights. He'd signed up for parasailing, horseback riding, and scuba diving just in the first two days. The rest of the week was going to be up to her. _She had seemed so excited just a week ago._ He still wasn't sure what had gone wrong. He might never know. All he knows is that here he is on their supposed-to-be honeymoon, _alone_ , while she had run off with her "just a friend" from college on the day they were supposed to be married. 

_He'd been such a fool,_ he thinks, but there really hadn't been any signs. She played her part perfectly. He's staring into the bottom of his empty glass and suddenly his vision is blurry. He refuses to let himself tear up at a bar in the British Virgin Islands over a woman who clearly didn't tear up over him. He ordered another tropical drink and downed it quickly before he left the bar and walked down to the water's edge for the first time since arriving. The turquoise color of the warm water was like nothing he had ever seen. Despite the brilliant color of the sea at large, in the shallows it was absolutely crystal clear. It was amazing. There were no waves to speak of; just a gentle lapping over the top of his feet that would be wonderfully relaxing under any other circumstances.

He takes a moment to focus on mindfulness. _Focus on the here and now_ , he thinks. That’s what his therapist would say. He feels the heat of the sun on his face, a trickle of sweat running down his back, and the feel of the water--warm for the ocean, but cool and gentle over his feet. He hears nothing like the rushing of waves, but instead only the soft sounds of the sea meeting the shore, and the occasional seagull calling in the distance. The water is so clear he can straight down to the bottom when he steps out further into the water until it hits his waist. He's careful not to step on the shells or the occasional hermit crab he sees as he walks through the water along the shore. There're some darker forms further out in the water but he isn't about to drown on this stupid island to try to investigate. _That would just be a great end to a great trip_ , he thought.

He'd never learned how to swim, so going any deeper than chest-deep wasn't a great idea; despite wanting to see what was out there, he stayed where he was and looked from a distance. It wasn't just a fear of swimming pools--it was the added fear of the open ocean that kept him from ever learning. Laura had made fun of him for not knowing how to swim and seemed shocked he'd book them on a scuba excursion. He had planned to push himself for her sake, like he always tried to do.

Not today though…... 

Today, he was going to push himself for _him_ and no one else. He would prove to himself he could do it.

He was in one of the best places for diving in the world and the advertisement for the scuba excursion he signed up for Thursday boasted no experience necessary. He felt the first surge of " _something_ " giving him purpose since he came here. He felt it spreading through him, much like the alcohol had earlier. The surge of determination; a drive to complete a goal that had been lacking for a long time gave him something to look forward to. The excitement of trying something new was a great distraction from his pity party for one. He hoped maybe this could be that bucket list adventure that marked starting his new life. He could feel like Din again for maybe an hour, and with any luck, maybe a better version of himself might emerge.

He could do this one thing for himself, he repeated in his head once more. He'd put his fear behind him and go for it. She forgot about him; he could forget too. He would have a good time in his remaining days not to spite her, but because he goddamned deserved it. Even if he just did one thing he's always wanted to try, _just for himself_ , it would make the whole trip worth it.

Fuck it. 

Fear or no fear, he was going to see some fish in water deeper than his waist even if it killed him. Tomorrow he'd march right up the boat for scuba diving and go through with it--prove it to himself. He could do at least one fun thing on this trip to make it worthwhile coming down here all by himself. Maybe whatever guy offered the hour-long trip would feel sorry for him and they'd share a beer later. He could use a beer. He'd never been a fan of rum, though tequila was growing on him when mixed with right things. 

.....................

Thursday

Thursday morning, Din put on his red swimsuit that could also pass off as shorts and throws on a white t-shirt. He grabs a quick breakfast in the lobby, trying to ignore his stomach doing somersaults at the idea of spending the next hour in the water and trying to come out alive on the other end.

Nailed into the tall post on the pier was a sign that read, ‘Cara's Island excursions: fishing, scuba, and snorkel’. His plan of maybe grabbing a beer with this _guy_ went out the window. His fast glance at the name on the pamphlet in his room had been incorrect. Carl was in fact _Cara_ , and very much not a man. Tied to the dock was a decent-sized white boat. Din didn't know if it was a commercial boat or her own, but it read _The Ocean Crest_ across the side. There were little iridescent blue waves painted beside the lettering that glimmered brilliantly in the sun. Trolling lines were set up all across the back of the boat, which made sense if she also offered fishing charters. He stands next to the sign that says Cara's Island Excursions and waits for 9 o'clock to roll around. There's another couple in that area already, just milling about closer to the boat until the captain, "Cara" (if she's the owner from the sign), calls them over and tells them something he can't hear. 

After a short back and forth with the captain in question, the couple walk back down the short wooden pier. He thought they looked upset as they walked past him and back toward the hotel.

It's Din's turn now, and he approaches the side of her boat where she's busy stowing things away in chests and under the seat cushions that lift up to double as waterproof storage. 

"Hey, you uh," he says awkwardly, to get her attention. _Okay, so much for starting out strong_ , he thinks. He tries again, more direct this time. "Is this the place for scuba diving?" he asks her.

"You're in the right place," the dark-haired woman tells him, barely looking up from her task, "but unfortunately, it's not happening today."

"Why? Was I late?" he asks, as he looks down at his watch. It was exactly 9 on the dot.

She shoves the final buoy into a chest and looks right at him. "Sorry guy, there’s only three of you and I have to have five just to break even."

_Well, that didn't go according to plan_ , he thought. He wasn't mad, just disappointed. He had really psyched himself up for this. The other couple looked angry, but he didn't want her to think he was upset like they were.

"Oh, okay. That makes sense,” he agrees. “I’ve never scuba dived before. I was looking forward to checking it off my bucket list, you know, but I get it. You have a business to run."

She was mildly surprised he didn't go off on her like those other two and it probably showed on her face. It made her much more agreeable. 

"Look, you here for a few more days?” she asks him, optimistically. “Maybe there'll be more people Friday or Saturday. Today's the big fishing tournament, that's where they all are."

"I'm not sure I'll muster the courage a second time, but thanks,” he tells her kindly.

She gave him a curious look. "It takes a lot of courage walking down a 50-foot pier?"

He almost laughs. "Let’s just say the open ocean scares the hell out of me, so I'm glad you're the one who cancelled and I didn’t have to chicken out. You really did me a favor."

She can tell he's playing it off so she doesn't feel bad ruining his plans. For his big talk about being glad to not have to follow through with his moment of bravery, he seems sad; disappointed even. 

He smiles a quick smile at her as he turns to leave back in the direction of the hotel patio and she notices he has a nice smile. Damnit…… and he didn't get mad when she cancelled, not like those other people. She was a sucker for niceness. She saw so little of it these days. 

She yells out to him before he's out of earshot. "Hey, sorry," she says, surprised to find she actually means it. "The hotel contracts me out, but I still have to pay for gas. Maybe tomorrow?"

"Yeah, maybe tomorrow," he calls back to her, but he didn't sound convincing at all.

He walks away back to the bar area to get out of the glare from the water. He sits at one of the tables with an umbrella overhead to help stay out of the sun and he has a better view of the water. There's a couple of pelicans sitting on the posts near the pier and he resigns himself to just another day staring out at the water. Maybe there's some good TV on in his room, he thinks. He must be the only person on Earth who'd fly to a beach paradise and spend the whole time either in his room or on a chair overlooking the water within earshot of a TV. It just didn't feel inviting anywhere else; not being at a couples resort by himself. The natural beauty surrounding him didn't seem all that special with no one to share it with. He slides his sandals off his feet and takes a sip of the topical concoction the bartender made for him--a breakfast drink with banana and pineapple. He had to specify to leave out the rum even though it was only 9 in the morning. He'd drunk so much in the last few days' he didn't want to see hard liquor for the next year. 

Cara continues spraying down the deck as she tidies up. She sees her friend out of the corner of her eye walking toward her down the pier, waving a hand at her to motion her to come over. Cara steps off the boat and onto the wooden planks to meet her.

"That’s the guy," Chrissy hisses in the loudest whisper Cara had ever heard. _Very inconspicuous_..... _a blonde curly haired grown woman shushing her like a child._

"Which guy?" Cara asks at normal volume, and her friend turns to face her with wide eyes.

" _Everyone_ knows the guy, Cara. Shhh! Keep your voice down!"

Cara just gives her a look that says, ' I have no clue what you're talking about'. "You know I don't care if he's famous or whatever." She got a disgusted look on her face. "He's not one of those " _influencers_ " is he?" she asks. "He looks about my age, but you never know."

"No, he’s not an influencer, _whatever the hell that is_ , at least I don't think so," Chrissy replies. "He’s here on his _honeymoon_."

Again, Cara gives her a confused look. "Sooo? How’s that’s special?" It seems like everyone is here on their honeymoon. _She wants to puke a little_. _A lot actually….._

"It's _special_ because his fiancée left him at the altar--didn’t show up to their wedding. Poor guy...."

Cara's not buying it. Chrissy has always been gullible and a bit of a bleeding heart. She was amazed they were still friends after all these years. Cara looks at the guy in question before looking back at Chrissy. "And you want me to believe he _what_ \-- he came on the honeymoon by himself? Give me a fucking break." She takes a swig of cool water from her water bottle, before wrapping up the hose and putting it away on the dock.

Her friend seems to have an answer for that too. "Paid for the whole thing months ago, didn’t he?" she reasons. "He might as well get an all-inclusive week at the beach. He deserves the free booze and the excursions."

Cara blinked. _Shit._

She knew where this was going. Chrissy was as subtle as a brick wall.

She casually glanced over to where the guy in the red swim-shorts was sitting to get an actual look at him. Now that she noticed it, he was the only guy sitting alone in the table seating by the bar. Everyone else was in couples, it must have made him feel even worse. 

"Come on Cara, just take him out for the hour," her friend pleads with her.

Cara looks like she's thinking it over. "How do you know he’s not a serial killer and this is his elaborate backstory to garner sympathy?" she asks her friend who’s already looking smug.

"I don’t," her friend tells her, "but you could overpower him easily, and the look in his eyes doesn’t look fake." Cara knew that much was true at least. That kind of rejection leaves a mark. _She would know._

"He said he was afraid of the ocean, Chrissy…"

"Yeah? And _you_ love it. Why don't you prove him wrong then?"

Cara sighs. Taking him out for an hour would be less painful than being nagged to death by her friend. "If I get murdered by that nice-looking serial killer, I'm coming back to haunt your ass, just so you know."

Chrissy smiles and waves her off. "Have fun!"

.......

Din was looking down at the sunburnt tops of his bare feet resting beside his sandals when suddenly a person-shaped shadow passed in front of him. Instead of moving, the shadow just stood there, stubbornly blocking the sun until Din looked up. It was the woman from the dock. She looked at him sitting there and gestured for him to stand up, expecting him to follow her. "Come on, before I change my mind."

"What?" he asked, trying to catch up.

When he didn't immediately follow her, she stopped and turned impatiently to wait. "I changed my mind. I need to run the engine anyway, come on." 

_God, is that the best she could come up with?_ she thinks. _Run the engine_? The engine could sit idle for weeks and he probably knew that. She figured he'd call her on it, but he didn't. He was probably just too surprised by the turn of events to argue them changing in his favor.

He slides his feet back into the flip flops and follows her back to the Ocean Crest. The steps are non-slip, but he still uses the railing, so he doesn't fall on his face just in case. The other two people who were interested in going out today are nowhere in sight, but the woman didn't seem concerned. He guessed it was just him then.

She sees him step onto the boat behind her and notices he didn't bring a bag or anything. "That's all you got?" she asks skeptically. "You need to grab anything else?"

"No," he replies, as he pats his shirt and pockets, "just me."

She raises her eyebrows, unconvinced he's actually serious.

" _Why_ , do I need anything else?" he asks. "I haven't done this before."

"Nope. Just you is fine," she tells him. "Most people bring a whole bag full of crap, that's all."

He hasn't taken a seat yet. He legitimately looks nervous. She's seen it before, but he might as well make himself comfortable. They'll be in each other's company for the next 60 minutes, after all. 

"You can take off your shoes," she tells him. "Your bare feet have better grip than the plastic on the bottom of your sandals."

"Oh, okay." He slides them off and tucks them under one of the seats.

"I'll put your phone and keys in the lock-box," she offers before they head out. "I don't lock it, but it'll keep them dry. Not to mention keeping them out of the ocean if you get a case of butter-fingers."

He reaches into his pocket and hands her his keys. He still has on the resort color-coded arm band that gets him pretty much free _everything_ : drinks, food, entertainment--the full honeymoon package. He knows she sees it--it's neon yellow--but she doesn't mention it or ask why he's here by himself. He appreciates it. 

She gives him a 'gimme' motion with her other hand when all he produces are his keys. "Come on, cell phone?" she prompts him. "I'm not robbing you. It's to keep it safe." 

He'd hand it over if he had it, but he doesn't. "I didn't bring my phone with me."

"What?!" she exclaimed. That was completely unbelievable. He had to be lying. _Why would he lie though?,_ she thought

"Who am I going to call underwater?" he asks sarcastically. 

She's suspicious. She hasn't seen anyone get on her boat without their cell phone in years. "What about taking pictures?" she counters.

"I'll use my eyeballs and make something called a _memory_. I don't need a picture," he insists, "unless we find a starfish. I wanted to get a picture of at least one before I leave."

"Okay, let's go find that starfish. I'll take a picture _for_ you." She turns the key in the ignition and sets the timer for 1 hour. 

She throws his keys in the "stuff" drawer. People left stuff behind all the time and there was no harm in keeping a stash of extra stuff as far as she was concerned. You never know what you might need one day. She had all kinds of stuff in there: pens, hair ties, nail clippers, sunscreen, chapstick, sunglasses, diving sticks, and goggles. In the cabinet below the drawer she also had the emergency kit with band-aids and stuff for idiots dumb enough to step on the coral and vinegar for encounters with man o' war. She throws him an extra pair of sunglasses she comes across and he catches them.

"Thanks." He hadn't even thought to bring sunglasses. He was mostly focused on his face being in the water, not the sun.

"Don't mention it," she replies, "the sun on the water is more intense than you think it will be." 

"Are there any seat belts?" he asks, as he finally sits down on one of the seats along the side of the boat.

She laughs. "Nope. You just have to trust I won't kill you."

“That’s so comforting,” he tells her.

"There's a life jacket under your seat if you're really worried, and if you're going to puke, please do it over the side. I just cleaned her."

" _Her_?" he asks, finding it only a little strange she referring to her boat as a lady.

"The Ocean Crest," she explains, running a hand lovingly along the display panel. "All boats are women. Everyone knows that."

She expected him to interact or at least _re-_ act to her baiting, but he was in his own little world. The few seconds where he had a sarcastic comeback gave her hope he'd perk up as they set out, but no such luck. She was tempted to be a little shit just to get something out of him other than his body sitting there quietly. It was starting to creep her out. She was an introvert born and bred, but it was just creepy how checked-out he seemed. 

"You sure you're not a serial killer?" she asks him to break the ice.

It at least got a reaction out of him, she thought. _Success_. 

"Uh...nope--last time I checked anyway." What a strange question, he thought. _A strange question from a strange woman......_

"Good," she says cheerfully. "What are the odds there would be _two_ on the same boat?"

At least that got him to look up and right at her--right in the eye.

"What?" His eyebrows were furrowed, and it was the most expressive she'd seen him so far. She couldn't help but smile at the half concerned-half confused look on his face. 

That also might have been the first time he looked her right in the eyes. "Sorry, just a little boating humor. The sun has probably fried my brain by now. Don’t mind me.”

He feels the rumble of the engines starting up underneath him as she eases the throttle forward but just looks straight ahead as they're easing away from the dock and she pulls in the ropes. At this point, most people are looking all around to see everything they possibly can during the trip, but not him.

She turned the boat to the side to give him a better view of the island they were leaving behind, but he wasn't even looking at her _or_ the water. He didn't really seem all that 'in the moment' at all. He just seemed sad, but it wasn't pity that filled her--she was getting pissed off. She stopped the boat harder than necessary and noticed he looked up at the change in momentum.

"Hey! Your feet aren't that interesting," she quips, before stretching her arm back toward the shore in a sweeping gesture meant to get his attention. " _That's_ the view you're paying for."

He makes it a priority to look out across the water and at the island they're leaving behind. They're maybe two hundred yards from the shore when he realizes he knows absolutely nothing about the person who he is entrusting his life to. There's no one around as far as his eyes can see. He finally takes a look at her--his guide who was really trying to engage him. She's wearing a white crochet cover-up--it's very "holey" with a couple of small beads here and there. Under it, she's wearing a dark maroon swimsuit of some kind underneath it. It looks elegant if it's possible. It's not the bright obnoxious in-your-face swimsuit the other beachgoers were all wearing around the hotel. He looks at her face. She's pretty.

_More than pretty if he’s being honest….even with the scowl on her face he likely put there._

It finally sunk in that she was a woman, out there all alone with him. "Do you really go out on boats with strangers everyday by yourself?" He asks her. "Is that safe?"

She gave him a very unimpressed look as she sized him up. "You going to attack me? Good luck."

"What? No! Of course not!"

"Then it's perfectly _safe,"_ she says _. "_ And for the record, I can take care of myself." At the self-appraisal, he can't help but do the same as he tries and fails to give her a decidedly not-creepy once-over. She's right--he'd be no match for her. She has strong swimmer’s legs and strong arms from raising sails and moving equipment. She's strong all over and it shows when he managed to actually look.

He was really seeing her for the first time. Dark hair, dark eyes; freckles across her shoulders and the bridge of her nose. She had a lovely golden tan--not a 'fake' leisure tan from where people lie about in the sun for relaxing, but a tan suiting a woman who lives on an island and works under the sun every day. Her hair is down and it's whipping all over the place in the wind, except where it looks like it's braided back on one side with a couple of colorful strands of string mixed in. The hints of bright color stand out against the darkness of her hair. Only the very top of her head is maybe a shade lighter from the sun’s naturally bleaching. 

She's focusing on steering the boat and thankfully doesn't notice his appraisal. She doesn't seem cold, just not big on small talk. _That's fine_ , he thinks. He wasn't much on mindless chatter anyway. He finds himself staring and forces his eyes elsewhere to the other natural beauty all around them. "The water is beautiful," he tells her, to prove he's paying attention. Out here, he can't focus on anything else. It's all around him and impossible to ignore the beauty of the island. He's glad she kept trying to get him to look up and look around. Maybe this is exactly what he needed--not staying at the hotel and wallowing, but getting out instead and enjoying nature. Nature didn't give a shit he was forty some-odd years old and still single. At this speed, with the wind in his face, he couldn’t focus on that thought at all either.

"Yeah," she agrees. _It’s true. The water is beautiful. That view never gets old_. 

"We're deep enough right here," she assures him, as she comes to a stop near a small island. "You can dive in if you want. I won't drive off." She definitely has a big mouth, but he hopes she's teasing. It was pretty clear she was, but he hadn't even thought that she could just leave him out here. Everyone had been walking on eggshells around him lately, so it was nice to have someone tease him and joke around. So far, she's treated him like he's normal, and not some sort of rejected bachelor leper. She's turned her back to him and is pulling all sorts of equipment out of the storage compartments: belts, air tanks, masks, and some tubing by the looks of it. She offers again that he can swim around while she gets everything ready. She takes people scuba diving all the time as their guide, but sometimes it's nice to just jump in on your own and enjoy a minute of solitude, so she doesn't want to hold him back on her account. 

"I can't really swim so that would be a horrible idea," he jokes.

She abruptly stops. He expected her to make fun of him for not knowing how to do something most children know how to do, but she surprised him. She eyed him like she was making a risk assessment based on his height and weight and what little she's learned of his experience in the water. She put the tanks and equipment she had been dragging out back in the locker. "Maybe scuba is for another day again then," she suggests, not seeming put out in the least. "Can you snorkel?"

"I don’t know,” he tells her honestly, “I never tried. Can't swim, remember?"

"No time like the present then," she says cheerfully, "and you don't have to know how to swim to snorkel. I'm very good at keeping idiots alive. It's my job."

He snorts at that. "It's clearly not customer service......" he mumbled under his breath, loud enough that she could hear it. Everyone had been babying him and watching what they said around him, and her zero-shits-given attitude was refreshing. He thought he could tease her back, but he thought maybe he'd made a mistake. _Great job,_ he thinks, _piss off the person who's trying to keep you from drowning or getting eaten by a giant squid._

He expected to see her upset, but she actually laughed—and hard. It was real and involuntary--the best kind. He saw her grin for a whole additional three seconds before she managed to tamp it down. He liked it when she smiled. _It was harmless to notice something like that,_ he thought. He could appreciate beauty when he saw it. It was completely objective—she had a nice smile.

“You’re right,” she tells him still clearly amused, “I’m terrible with people, especially idiots." She handed out two life jackets for him to try on. "Let me know which feels better. It should be tight, but not so tight you can't breathe."

"If it makes you feel less insulted, I'm terrible dealing with idiots too," he says. He realizes he hadn't even told her his name. He tightens the life jacket a little too tight, in part because his hands were shaking. "If I'm about to die, you should at least know my name. I'm Din."

"Cara," she replies in return. "It was nice knowing you Din," she says solemnly as she shakes his hand. He smiles at her quick wit. 

The boat was stopped within fifty feet of a long sandbar where the water is shallow. He could stand if he had to by the look of it. He's never seen water so clear in his life. 

" _Din_ , right?" she calls out, "you have on sunscreen?" She's pleased he's at least enjoying the sights and looks like he'll actually get in the water without too much coercion on her part.

"Yeah on my face," he confirms, "but won't I be in the water the whole time?" he asks. She scoffs and tosses him an extra bottle of SPF 100. 

"I knew I was pale, but I didn't know I was _this_ pale," he complained, as he read the number. 

"I'm not insulting your fair baby mainland skin," she assures him. "When you're snorkeling you could be floating on your stomach for an hour; you lose sense of time and the cool water tricks your brain from feeling the heat on your back--the whole time you're sizzling like a piece of bacon--you won't be able to walk tomorrow if you don't lotion up." She half-watches him as he takes off his shirt and rubs sunscreen all over his shoulders and neck before reaching as much of his back as he can. He's certainly not horrible to look at, she begrudgingly admits to herself.

When he's done, he turns around and hands the lotion back to her. "Thanks."

She gives him a quick once-over and can see even at first glance that he’s missed spots. It's so obvious; she can’t believe he thought he was done.

"You missed the back of your shoulder and the top of your arm," she critiques him, gesturing to his right shoulder as he reaches around to fix it once she hands him the lotion again.

"Did I get it?" he asks, as he spins around in a circle for inspection.

She scrutinizes his work. "Yeah, but still your whole shoulderbla--Oh, for the love of--you're hopeless, turn around,” she demands, none too gently.

She's very businesslike as her hands move over his shoulders and down his back before applying a very generous glob into her palm and covering his neck in the protective lotion. Her hand went all the way into the base of his hair, accidentally getting some on the dark errant curls that got caught in the line of fire. _There, that was much better. She even got his ears._ He wasn't getting sunburned if she could help it. 

He hesitates when he realizes she isn't planning on moving the boat any closer. They're still some distance from the island, even with the sandbar close by.

"Uhhh, I can't swim, remember?" he helpfully reminds her, gesturing to the distance between them and dry land.

"You're not drowning on my watch, don’t worry." She checks the buckles on the life vest and tugs the straps to make sure he won’t sink like a stone. _A mildly, maybe sightly attractive stone……..wtf, Cara, she thinkg. You need to get laid. Stop checking out the tourist._

"Do I look as ridiculous as I feel?" he asks, standing there in a bright orange vest with reflective lime-green stripes along the bottom. It clashes horribly with the red of his shorts.

"Yes, definitely," she tells him with a smirk, giving an honest appraisal, "but you'll be _alive_ to look ridiculous, so there's that."

Without any flourish, she reaches down to the hem of her cover-up, peels it up and over her head, and throws it on the seat next to the steering wheel and throttle. Din almost wished she had left it on. He had been getting on with her just fine, when he could pretend not to notice how gorgeous she was. She was nice and funny and sarcastic, with a kind smile. Why did she have to have a body like that too? As if he hadn't been tortured enough in the last week.....however this was the best kind so far.

She was wearing one of the most conservative two-piece swimsuits he’d seen since he arrived on the island. The halter cut itself wasn't provocative, but over her curves it certainly was. A wide strip of maroon fabric over her hips was both too wide and not wide enough for his sanity. It was remarkably conservative for someone in her thirties he estimated, but with how active her day was it made sense. Bending over and climbing and swimming wouldn't be all that easy in a string bikini. He couldn’t help but admit that a potato sack would have looked amazing on her. He hasn't found himself attracted at first site to anyone in years, and he absolutely refused to start at this very moment. _Focus on your imminent and impending drowning_ Din _, not her thighs or the small birthmark he found on her lower back when she turned._

Where the straps of the halter top ties around her neck, he can see pale lines of skin untouched by the sun peeking out underneath. _Get a grip. She's nice that's all._ She can't help what she looks like. She probably gets ogled all the time. Do _not_ be that guy.

"I'll get us in closer" she says to reassure him, and she ends up practically grounding the boat so he can walk to shore without the water going above his chest or his feet leaving the sandy bottom. They walk on the sand to the island and she throws some gear down onto the first of two towels, but keeps a hold of two masks and snorkels. She demonstrates first so he can see how to don the necessary equipment.

"Put the mask over your face and adjust the strap, like this." 

She watches him struggle to get the strap around the back of his head. "On second thought, you have a really big head," she teases him, "so it might be hard."

"Maybe I should use yours then, since it's already adjusted for that enormous size," he says back to her, as he finally manages to get it in place.

"Push against it until you feel suction," she tells him, trying to wipe the smile off her face at the back-and-forth. He pushes against the mask but doesn't feel anything and tells her as much. She pushes the mask against his face more firmly with the palm of her hand and he feels it form a seal. 

"Then, this part goes in your mouth like _this_ , and make a seal with your mouth. If it's uncomfortable then you know you're doing it right." She puts the flexible clear rubbery end of the snorkel in her mouth and raises her arms to the side in a pose meant to say ' ta-da'.

He's following along, but doesn't look all that comfortable. He's trying so hard to make a perfect seal around the mouthpiece, but it feels tight. "Your mouth gets used to it," she reassures him, "and you're face down so if your lips relax, water isn't going to come rushing in. We'll practice somewhere you can stand in case you get a mouthful of water. "

She watches him go to remove it, but she stops him.

"Keep it in for a minute; get used to it. Relax your lips or your cheeks will be killing you in 15 minutes."

She has an idea to keep him from tensing up. "Try talking around it, Din. I'll help you relax your mouth."

He nods.

"Talking means words, not nodding, genius. You wanted to see a starfish right?” she asks to get him talking. “Do you care what kind?"

His garbled "no" comes through just fine. 

"Anything you want to steer clear of?" she asks as a more open-ended question to make him talk and loosen up.

"Big teeth and lots of tentacles," is his answer, but around the plastic rubbery mouthpiece, it came out more as "bib teef and wots od bentacles."

"Okay, no sharks and minimal octopus," she states back to him like she was taking his order. "I can't guarantee it, but I'll try. Let's go."

He spits out the mouthpiece to talk normally. "Don't we need the things that go on your feet? Flippers?"

"Fins?" she guesses. "Nah, not when you're starting out. They're hard to walk in anyway. You won't need them for speed or agility the first time."

She walks them back toward the water, but in the opposite direction of the boat. "Let's go this way. Come on."

She finds a sandy patch and decides that's a good spot. She throws down the other towel to mark where they got in. "We'll get in here," she tells him; referring to the sandbar that extends out into the water, giving them a soft walkway that's comfortingly shallow if he freaks out or needs a break. He appreciates her going out of her way to make him comfortable. "Walk directly behind me when we get near the reef," she instructs him. "If anything is going to sting or bite our feet, I'll get to it first." He actually feels comforted by that gesture. "We'll walk out to the beginning of the reef and start shallow, just floating," Cara informs him. "If it's too much for you, you can always stand with your face in the water--the fish will come to you, I promise."

"Okay," he says. He couldn't believe he was actually going through with this.

"You ready?" she asks him to make sure she's not pushing him too fast.

"As I'll ever be," was his response. The truth was he wasn't scared, just excited. She had made this as stress-free as possible. 

Before their feet touch the water, she stops him so she can tell him the important rules. "If you put your hands near your neck or splash at all I'm not asking any questions--I'm dragging you out. I've never had anyone drown on my watch before, and I won't start today. If I give you a thumbs up, that means put your head above water so I can say something."

He nods.

"Got it?" she asks, to get a verbal confirmation. Nodding wasn't going to cut it.

He gave her a clear "got it," to prove he was listening.

He was really going to do this. Despite just having met her, he trusted her. He wasn't afraid. 

"Go stand by the water," she tells him. "Mask on, snorkel in your mouth."

He does as she says, but he doesn't hear her moving in the sand behind him. Instead, he sees her rummaging through the open dive bag on the towel and pulling out her phone. "What are you doing?" he inquires, when she holds her phone up toward him.

"Taking your picture," she tells him, as she waits for the focus and snaps a few pictures. Her phone was only waterproof to roughly 13 feet, so she wasn't taking it in the water. 

"Why?" he asked curiously.

"You said you don't need pictures, but this is big--you're overcoming your fear,” she applauds him. “I'll take another one of you when we're done and send them to you when we head back."

That was actually really kind, and he tells her so. "Thank you, that's very thoughtful"

She bristled at the compliment for some reason. "Trust me, I don't have a thoughtful bone in my body." As she walks by him, she pats him on the shoulder over the life vest and tells him, "it's also so I can remember what you look like if you get eaten by a shark. Anyway, come on let's go."

The damage had already been done though, despite her brushing off his compliment. His guide could dispute it as much as she wanted but the secret was out—she was nice. Cara tried to pretend she wasn't kind, but it was becoming hard to ignore. He could appreciate someone who had to wear a hard shell but was something softer underneath when you looked closer. 

Instead of him walking behind her she's purposefully walking beside him to show him how to walk. She explains her reasoning for re-teaching him how to move his feet--a skill he'd had since he learned to walk. "When you're walking around in the water you shouldn't walk like you normally do and bring your feet straight down. Shuffle your feet like this."

He diligently watches her feet shuffling through the sand without leaving the bottom to take normal steps. "Why?" he asks, even though he's trying to copy her regardless.

"They call it the stingray shuffle," she explains. "Stingrays are flat and bury themselves under the sand. You won't see them before you step down on one. They have a tail with a barb that would go clean through your foot. If you shuffle, you'll disturb them and they'll swim away before you introduce your foot to the business end of one."

They walk through the water until they get to a dark spot that stands out against the pure white bottom of the sea floor. The spot is perfect--little bits of coral here and there--nothing too exciting, but nothing so large that once he gets over it there's no place to put his feet if he freaks out and needs to stand. He's close to six feet and the water comes up to his shoulders here.

"Don't step on the coral," she reminds him. "Not only will it kill it and the fish who call it home, but it will slice up your feet like deli ham."

"That's a lovely image--thank you for that," he says. "No stepping, got it. Deli ham and giant spiny barbs. You're really selling this, Cara."

She almost laughs. Even nervous, he's trying to make jokes. 

She modifies her statement to let him know that's not an iron clad rule. "Unless you really can't breathe or something," she tells him, "then do what you have to. If it's your life or the coral, you stand wherever you need to."

They shuffle up to a collection of coral that can't be more than eight feet across and 3 feet wide. The water is still only up to his neck here. "We'll float around this one first," she tells him. "I'll show you what to look for." The sun is high in the sky so it's nice to feel the cool water touch his shoulders. It must be almost lunchtime he thinks. _Wasn't his hour already long since up?_

"Okay, this is it--your big moment," she declares. "Face in the water." He secures the snorkel in his mouth, double checks his mask is watertight around his nose, and submerges his face. He's trying to use his arms and legs to keep him close to the surface, but it's awkward at best. He notices a couple of tiny blue fish are jetting this way and that, investigating the "visitors." 

He tucks his legs in at a weird angle to avoid stepping on anything as he watches the fish in amazement. _This is so much better than an aquarium_ , he thinks. The colors are so vibrant in the crystal-clear water and the fish barely even seem to care he's there as they swim around him, going about their business. Din counts a total of five little blue fish and a lone yellow one darting in and out of the patch of coral. He thought he maybe saw a crab, but it was gone when he tried to get a better look. He's been in the open ocean for probably ten full minutes and he didn't panic once. He was so proud of himself. She taps him and pulls him backward back to a bare patch of sand so he can stand and bring his face out of the water. _That was shorter than he expected_ , he thought, but it was amazing. He was lucky to have been out here this long. 

He spits out the mouthpiece.

"Cara! I saw some fish. They were huge!"

She laughs at how genuinely amazed he was. She had seen the same fish he had and couldn't help but laugh. "Those were just a couple of baby tangs. They're like the pigeons of the sea. They're everywhere."

She grabs his arm and pulls him further away from the reef into shallower open water where he can stand more comfortably. "Let's start over. Come back this way some. I'll show you a better way to float and avoid the reef than just tucking your legs in and curling into a ball. " She moves them further back from the reef where the water is only to his rib-cage. 

"Watch me float," she instructs him. She lies on her stomach in the water; her arms and legs open in a relaxed position. She stands and it's his turn. "Let the life jacket do the work. It can hold your weight." He puts his snorkel in and tries it. There's water in his ears, but he can still make out her instructions. "Lay completely flat," she tells him. "Legs out straight." She smacks his feet when they stray too low in the water. "I paid a lot of money for that vest, let it do its job Din!" 

He tries to do as she says, but he can't seem to relax prostrate like that. If he straightens his legs, it makes his face sink lower and it feels like he'll sink and his snorkel will go under. 

She sighs when she sees it's not working, but doesn't get frustrated though. 

"Change of plans," she tells him. "Try it on your back first."  
She shows him the same relaxed pose but on her back. She moves them further away from the skittish fish. "Lie back, like you were going to fall asleep. It'll hold you up."

"I'm too heavy," he argues, stubbornly, as if he's suddenly an expert on flotation devices.

"No, you're not," she insists. "It's rated for your weight and it only has one job--to float."

"Lie on your back like a starfish," she tells him, as she adds an extra arm under him to help him feel stable. "Chin up. Look up at the sky. I've got you. Relax." She finally gets him into the right position with his chin up and his body relaxed, but he's holding his breath and gulping in air only when he feels the water's less near his face. "Don't hold your breath, Din. Breathe normally. If you feel your feet sinking, kicking them a little helps keep them at the surface. Try it."

He tries it and it helps keep his feet near the surface. "You're still holding your breath," she scolds him. "Count to twenty out loud, it'll help."

After he counted to twenty breathing normally, he realized his face wasn't going to go under and that the vest was truly capable of holding his weight, he relaxed into it more and more. He felt her arm move out from under him, but he still didn't sink.

Cara could see he was finally letting the life jacket do its job. "You ready for the ocean-worthy test?" she asks him. "Oh no, here comes a big wave," says, clearly exaggerating, as she shakes his leg to undulate him in the water. When he actually laughs, she rocks him by the life vest and splashes water on him. She even spins him around in a half circle claiming he's stuck in a whirlpool. It's so ridiculous that it makes him laugh even harder and he forgets to be nervous or hold his breath. He guesses that's the point. It was working. The distraction made this much less anxiety-inducing. He's not drowning--it's nice. He never knew floating could be relaxing. He certainly never thought he'd be laughing while in the ocean. 

"Don't make me laugh," he tells her, when a second 'Cara-wave' splashes him, "I can't breathe when I laugh, and I'm trying to stay alive."

"Come on Mr. Bee Gees. Snorkel in. Mask on. We'll do it face down, now that you're an expert."

At his hesitation, she reminds him, "you can breathe through the snorkel just as easily. Come on. Starfish on your stomach." He successfully manages it and he's looking down at the sand through the crystal clear water when suddenly Cara's face is underneath him in the water, giving him a thumbs up. He wasn't sure if she was telling him he did a good job or if she needed to tell him something, so he stands.

"That was great, you looked much more relaxed," she says, and he feels warm at the praise. "Hold on, I'm going to grab something. Keep your face out of the water until I get back." He tries and fails not to watch her walk back to the towel and lean over to dig something else out of the bag. She returns with a spiral stretchy band around her wrist with a plastic card attached to it. It's a color atlas of sea life that's native to the area.

He was surprised at the implication they were going back to the reef for a second try. It appeared she had just wanted to adjust his positioning before trying again. He thought that was all he was going to see today and had been more than satisfied with the amazing experience, but he was thrilled it wasn't over yet.

"Ready to go back to the big scary fish?" she asks him.

"Yeah. Those fish stand no chance. I'll find all of them. I'm the master of the sea now."

"You're a dork of the sea," she corrects him, but she's grinning and it takes all the sting out of what could have been an insult.

They return to the little reef outpost and they slowly make their way around it. Cara's alternating between watching him like a hawk for signs of discomfort and spotting every living thing she can so she can show it to him. They worked out a system: she'd point, he'd float as close as he could, and then she'd grab his hand and point using his own index finger until he saw what she found. She stayed by his side the whole time except when she dove down to the sandy bottom when something caught her eye. She dove down the couple of feet to pick up a purple sea urchin and hands it to him underwater so he can hold it. It wasn't as sharp as he thought it would be. When he'd had his fill, she placed it back where she found it.

He seems to relax the longer they stay in the water and she's glad he feels so calm now. She's thinking maybe she can venture a little further out to give him some space for personal discovery when he's suddenly hitting her arm. She sees his cause for alarm. A three-foot barracuda floats menacingly, staring them down with its huge teeth. She makes the universal symbol for 'it's okay,’ by making the letter ‘O’ with her thumb and index finger. The smaller daring fish swim up right in between them, and Din turns his head left and right to see all the different colors and types of ocean life. There's the occasional jellyfish he tries to avoid, but his guide, ( _Cara, he reminds himself)_ doesn't seem worried so he's not either. It was almost as if the animals could sense how much more comfortable he was, and they all came out in groves. There were fish everywhere now--whole schools of them.

She gives him another thumbs up and tells him above water, "I'm going to scrounge up some more wildlife for you, or point some out at the very least."

As soon as they put their faces back in the water, Din sees some sand kicked up and watches as a very flat fish scurries a few feet before buying itself again in the sand. He turns to Cara. "Did you see that?" he asks, when their heads are both above water. His excitement is infectious.

She can't help but smile at the first real treasure he found on his own. "Yeah, you spotted a flounder." She points it out on her laminated card. He knew from books that both of its eyes were on the same side of its body, but he never really appreciated why until he saw it wiggle itself back under the sand. She takes him around the small reef and points out a black and yellow eel peeking his head out from between the rocks that wasn't on the chart, so she tells him about it above water. On the rocks and coral itself, there are numerous clams and starfish holding tight. Some of the starfish have long thin delicate legs and Cara tells him those are brittle stars. _The name makes sense_ , he thinks. They look especially delicate. The pair of them probably spend almost an hour going around the same outcropping of rocks and coral over and over again, but each pass reveals something different. It's ever-changing--never the same exact view twice.

By the third time around, the fish are much more acclimated to his presence and he sees a second yellow eel snag a small passing fish. Cara points to the picture on her card that under it reads 'anemones' and then points to a cluster of them swaying gently with the current with little orange and white fish swimming among them. _Those type of tentacles were acceptable, he concedes_. A few more barracuda seem to appear out of nowhere like sharp-toothed ghosts, but he tries to ignore them. He won't freak out as long as Cara believes them to be no harm. 

Out of the corner of her eye she spots something, and she dives down to the sandy bottom to pick up a conch shell so she can let him hold it. She hands it to him and it's the most perfect shell he's ever seen. It's also _really_ heavy. He sees movement inside the shell and hands it back to her just in time to see the disgruntled snail-like inhabitant emerge. He was pretty sure if she could have laughed at him underwater, she would have, at how fast he handed it back to her when he saw it moving.

They stay still long enough to see a group of stingrays gliding by along the bottom. They were so graceful and calm. Combined with the silence underwater and the sunlight dancing across the ocean floor, he couldn't believe how relaxing this was. This was amazing--he should have done this years ago. For a second, he actually forgot what brought him to this island to begin with. He wasn't sure if it was Cara or the beautiful surroundings or a bit of both, but he was grateful, nonetheless. She grabs his hand or his arm when the gentle current pulls him adrift from her and their legs accidentally bump into one another frequently as they try to stay parallel. Every time they touch it's electric-- a fact he can't help but be aware of. 

When it's time to head back to land for a break, instead of looking straight down, he raises his eyes to look out into the void of the ocean where the crystal clear water turns to dark and visibility drops off. It's terrifying but thrilling at the same time. _All of it was......_

…………….

"I didn't know all that was under the surface," he says, as they sit on the powdery sand once they emerge from the water. It's all over her thighs and backside and all over his shorts, as well as both their feet and calves, but he finds he doesn't care at all. The feel of wet sand always drove him nuts but now it just added to the experience. It was another tangible reminder that this place was real; that he was living in the moment.

"Yeah, it's pretty cool," she says, in agreement.

"Does it get old?" he asks her, wondering if seeing it every day takes away some of the magic.

"No," she replies wistfully, "it never does."

"It's something special that you get to see this all the time," he tells her honestly. "Everyone sees the same thing when they look at the water's surface, but you can see so much more than they can. It's amazing." He wasn't sure where all this waxing poetic was coming from, but he didn't care if she laughed at him--he liked hearing her laugh anyway. "The water looks so still and calm, but there's all that beauty underneath it and most people don't see it." 

"You have to know where to look is all," she says, and he wonders if she meant the extra meaning hidden behind her words. They could apply to life in general too--to people. 

"Thanks for showing me,” he tells her, with genuine gratitiude.

"You're welcome," she says, and it sounds painfully sincere; like she doesn't get thanked all that often.

"Really, I know you said you weren't going out today, so I appreciate it." He wanted her to know how much today had meant to him and how it was the first time he'd been happy in a week.

"Don't thank me yet," she warns him. "I'm still going to teach you to swim. You'll probably hate me after that."


	2. Thursday part 2

Chapter 2

They hop back on the boat and she takes him to another part of the same island, but it's protected by land on three sides, forming a calm lagoon. They throw her stuff on the sand again, but this time there are no masks and no snorkels. It was only when she tells him to leave the life jacket on the sand as well, that he feels the tiniest of somersaults in his stomach.

She sets her sights on teaching him how to swim. 

"First things first," she says. "Can you hold your breath underwater at all?" she asks him, trying to see how much of a blank slate she's working with and kind of fundamentals he's learned or learned incorrectly.

"Yeah, I can hold my breath, " he says. "I tried to learn to swim as a kid but I couldn't do it, so I gave up. There's no good time to learn as an adult."

She obviously disagrees. "This is the _perfect_ time--still, clear, warm water and nothing is going to try to eat you."

"Except that giant toothy blue fish we saw," he reminds her.

"Barracuda are mostly just curious," she corrects him.

"Yeah, _curious_ about what I taste like."

"I'll protect you, don't worry," she teases him. 

"My hero," he says sarcastically. "Don't think I won't climb up you like a tree if that thing comes after me."

"You're ridiculous," she tells him, "and I know you're stalling...... show me whatcha got."

_Damn._

Once she sees that he can actually hold his breath, she lets out a sign of relief since her job just got easier. 

"The key to swimming is to expend as little energy as possible," she tells him. "The first key to staying _alive_ , however, is knowing how to float without a vest." She teaches him to float on his back without the life vest he had relied on all day. He keeps wanting to hold his head out of the water, but it's making his neck reach at an odd angle and making his body sink. Just like with the vest she shows him how to lay his head back, ears under the water, and tilt his chin up. "Don't think of it as your weight pushing down on the water; think of it as the water trying to hold you up," she suggests. Her hands held him up under his back until he got some confidence, and only then did she start pulling them away when he wasn’t paying attention. She kept him talking the whole time, and when she presented her hands that he thought were still holding him up, he panics and puts his feet down. "I thought you were holding me up," he complains, feeling somehow tricked.

"I let go some time ago, you were doing that all on your own," she tells him proudly, "you didn't need me."

"Really?" he asks, amazed and slightly disbelieving he did it on his own. His excitement is heartwarming and visceral, and it makes her happy just to witness how proud he was because of something she helped him achieve.

She can't say all that, so she settles for the simple truth. "Yes, really. That was all you."

He did it a couple more times on his own and she only stepped in with a light hand on his back when he started to dip a little too low. She wasn't holding him up though; it was just a gentle reminder to arch his back more. It was all fine correction at this point--the basic skill was there. Only once he could do it on command without any assistance, did they move on.

"Next: treading water," she states. "If you're in over your head, floating is your best bet, but treading water will keep your entire head out of the water, though it'll tire you out much faster," she tells him.

She demonstrates first. "Look underwater. Watch my arms and legs." _That was hardly a chore at all_ , Din thought--being told to stare at her intently was not difficult at all.

She observes his technique as he tries to copy her demonstration. "You're not trying to _cut_ through the water," she corrects him. "You want to _push_ against it with as much surface area as you can. Think of how the jellyfish we saw moved. It pushes water with its bell--you do the same with your arms. Gentle, big sweeping motions." She makes the big sweeping motions again for him to copy. He does a pretty passable job of treading water where they are standing, though in deep water he probably wouldn’t last thirty seconds. She was impressed with his courage and determination though. She shows him how to kick his feet near the surface of the water to properly produce forward momentum and she puts her hands over his to show him how to cup them to pull against the water. It was remarkable for an adult to pick it up so fast. By the end of their crash course, he could manage to pull himself through the water several lengths of his body while kicking his feet with his face submerged. He even got to where he could take a breath and keep going. When he got tired, he rolled onto his back like she showed him to catch his breath. He wasn't going to be a champion swimmer by the end of today, but at the very least he could probably keep himself alive if he fell off a pier.

When they both need a break, they trudge back to the white, dry sand where her towel lies waiting for them. Back on land, she gives him some of her snacks and a bottle of water as his heart rate and breathing return to normal. _Swimming really takes it out of you, he thinks._ They have lunch in the shade of some of the trees, but it's well past lunch, he realizes. It's getting late. It's probably three or four o'clock by now, but he thought they were just going out for the hour. Time has flown by, but she didn't seem bothered. In fact, he hadn't seen her check her phone once. 

When they're done eating and getting re-hydrated, she throws him some sunscreen. "You should apply it again since we’ve been in the water for a while."

"It’s safe for the fish to put on so much?" he questions her.

_He’s sweet,_ she thinks _. No one ever asks about that_. "Yeah, as safe as it _can_ be," she guesses. She always bought the least toxic brand they sold.

As they're finishing up their 'lunch', he realizes the sun is really getting low now. He’s been having so much fun he hadn’t even noticed they spent the whole day together. "How much do I owe you for the whole day?" he asks, not wanting her to be the one to ask for payment.

His words take her by surprise, but she looks at the sun and realizes they'd been gone much longer than she intended. It was supposed to be just an hour, but the sun's about to go down. She can't believe it _. Where had the time gone? They had set out after breakfast....._

"Don't worry about it," she tells him, dismissing his worry about his time going over. "It was fun not having to really work today. Everyone needs to play hooky sometimes."

They sit on the beach in companionable silence for a while before he gives into temptation and breaks it. 

"So, I've tried to ignore it but your Southern accent is quite strong when you're yelling at me to not drown. Where are you from?" he asks. "Not born here I guess?"

"You're right," she tells him. "I was born in Georgia, moved here with my parents when I was twelve." 

"Ex pat?" he deduces. "Do your parents still live here or did they move back to the states?"

"Neither," she tells him, while purposefully finding something else to look at. The shell near her foot seemed particularly interesting. "They uh....they passed away several years ago. Car crash."

Din grimaced. _Shit._

_Way to go dumb ass,_ he thinks, with a cringe. _She's been the only person who's been nice to you and you bring up her dead family_. _Great....._

He's not sure what to say, so he settles on the safest option. "I'm sorry."

She shrugs. "It’s okay."

"Still, sorry I brought it up," he apologizes, feeling more than a little guilty.

"How could you have known when you just met me?” she tells him kindly. “I don't think you would have said it to be cruel." It was crazy, but she needed the reminder she'd only known him today. It felt like she'd known him longer than just one long day in the sun. She didn't know it, but he was thinking the same thing, sitting beside her.

She turns her left ankle toward him, and he sees a small circle in dark ink with little ovals inside it in delicate line work. "I got this when my parents died." It was a small sand dollar on her ankle. "When I was a kid, my dad said when you find one it's a sign someone you lost is watching over you."

He has no clue what to say, but it was wonderful she had a comfort like that to keep with her. His parents were gone too, but he didn't want to start a contest of who had the worst life. No one won that contest, and instead of showing he knew a little of what she felt, he worried it would come across as belittling her pain by bringing up his own. Luckily, she saved him putting his foot in his mouth by finishing her thought. 

"I haven't seen one in ages on the island, despite looking every time I go out," she says. "We have tons of starfish and urchins on the reefs, but I haven't found one of these on the beach in years--almost four years to be exact." Her eyes get this far away look and he wonders what she's seeing that he can't.

She laughs self-consciously as she seems to snap out whatever she was reliving. "Sorry, I lost myself for a second,” she says, realizing how awkward she probably just made things. "I'm probably not doing a great job of showing you a good time, am I?"

"It's okay," he reassures her. "I'm not the only one on the planet who matters."

"I told you I'm not good with people,” she jokes a little more cheerfully.

"You say that, but today's been great," he says, wanting to let her know she didn't ruin his day by her moment of accidental honesty that somehow felt more intimate than anything he'd felt in years.

She changes the subject quickly anyway. "What about you?' she asks. "What do you do? Where are you from?"

"I'm an accountant," he says, and laughs at her horrified look. "I know, I know. It's such an exciting and glamourous job. No need to be jealous. I live in Virginia, outside Richmond."

"Oh, you're a yankee. I'm not sure we can be friends then," she tells him, obviously joking.

He laughs at her choice of words. "I haven't been called that in a long time, Cara."

She can't help herself. "I can think of some other things to call you if you like?"

"I'm sure good looking and funny are on the list," he helpfully supplies, as suggestions.

She throws some sand at him. "You mean your list of words you have for _me_?"

She's quick with the comebacks. He kind of loves it.

"You want me to say those things aren't true about you? I'm not sure I can. I'm very honest. Accountant, remember?"

"You're an idiot," she states, but it almost sounds like a compliment the way she said it.

"Can I blame it on the sun?" he asks.

"Not unless you're a vampire," she argues. "The sun's gone _down_ , idiot."

_Wait. When had that happened? The sun was already setting--it had to be closer to six by now. Where had the time gone?_

"I guess we have to go back," he says, but doesn't sound excited about that prospect in the slightest. 

"Yeah, I guess," she says, none too keen to end her day out either.

"Quick snorkel?" he suggests as a last-ditch excuse to spend a few more minutes having fun before they had to return.

"You want to go again?" she asks. "I figured I'd worn you out by now." The smirk on her face was positively teasing. 

"You don't have to make excuses, Cara. Just admit you can't keep up with me."

"We might see some sharks, they come out when the sun goes down," she tells him excitedly.

"Uhh......maybe I changed my mind."

She grabs his hand and pulls him to his feet. "Come on, big shot accountant, back in the water."

....................

They get back to the hotel right at dark. She's turned on the lamps on The Crest just in case, but luckily they hadn't waited another 20 minutes, or they might have truly relied on them to navigate in the dark. 

She orders some conch fritters at the bar for him to try since he said he'd never had them before, but he insists on getting them since he has the all-inclusive pass and not her. They munch on the shared fried snack in companionable silence. "So, this was the animal in the heavy shell?" he asks her.

"Yep, pretty delicious, right?"

He realizes just now, that this was first time someone sat on the stool next to him the whole time he’d been here. It was nice having somebody sit beside him. She tells him to try the rum punch instead of ordering a boring beer. He never really had a taste for rum, but he liked it, _or maybe he just liked drinking it with Cara_ , he tells himself. After he's downed half of it, she tells him, "it'll fuck you up in the sun but it's dark now, so it's probably fine. The sugar masks the liquor, and with the heat, most people puke at least once."

"Charming," he states as he puts the glass down. He had chugged the last bit of it just to make her laugh.

She smirks at him. "What can I say? I’m a charming kind of girl."

"Yeah, that’s definitely the word I'd use to describe you," he teases her with heavy sarcasm. _But yeah…… yeah, she really was._

Din finally says goodnight as the bar is closing and the day has come to an end. Cara's walking to the parking lot where she parked but is intercepted by a frantic Chrissy running up to her. "You were supposed to be gone an hour, Cara! An hour! It's after dark!"

"Sorry, I lost track of time," she says, feeling oddly defensive for some reason.

"I thought you were dead. I thought that he'd murdered you!"

"Don't be ridiculous," she chides her friend. "He's harmless, like you said. He's actually nice," Cara tells the other woman, and is surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth. 

"Still, Cara! Why did you stay out the whole day?"

"It was fun. Like I said, he's nice." To be honest she hadn't really thought of anything else the entire day. It had been the first day she had truly, unapologetically, had fun for the past few years. It had felt oddly freeing to spend the day with him, trying to get him to have a good time, while accidentally having a good time herself. She probably wouldn’t ever see him again, but she would remember every detail of today for quite some time. She didn't want to share any of it with Chrissy or anyone else either--not because she'd make fun of her or tell her it was a mistake-- but because it was something she wanted to keep all for herself. She didn't want to share any part of the day with anyone else. She'd be greedy and hoard it away; reminisce on it when she was having a hard couple of days to remember how he had smiled when she took her hand way and he realized he was swimming by himself. He had looked at her with so much pride, but it was how he looked at her like she was something amazing that that made her feel warm in a way she hadn’t felt before. It wasn't sexual or based on what he could get out of her. He had simply looked at her like she was something good and she had felt like it herself. She felt like something good. 

That night, she returned home and checked in with her nanny to make sure everything was fine, before turning in for bed. Cara still felt warm from the rum but something else too she couldn’t quite place. The pleasant feeling had allowed her to fall asleep faster than he had in months; usually suffering from bouts of insomnia during tourist season, but not tonight. She fell asleep quickly and even her dreams were pleasant. 

~~~~~~

_She could feel the warm sun on her face and even the scratchy bark of the tree at her back as she stood and watched the waves crashing against the shore. She knew it was a dream because there were never any real waves to speak of anywhere on the island, but the dream was so pleasant she let herself get lost in it. She looks around and knows she's alone but doesn't feel lonely. There's suddenly no tree anymore and she is sitting on the powdery sand. She hears a warm laugh beside her and is happy to see Din's back. There are other people walking along the beach but they're just sitting there together; they’re totally in the way, but oblivious to everyone else as they walk around them. She doesn't know why he's there, but it feels like he should be; like he'd been there the whole time._

_She looks back at the waves, but they're suddenly gone. The water is still, and she can spot sand dollars all along the waterline where the tide brought them in, but she doesn't move to go collect any. She's waited years to find one, so why wasn't she moving?_

_She looks around and the people are all gone--except for the man beside her._

_She can see Din's lips moving, asking her or telling her something but she can't make it out. She just knows she agrees with whatever he was trying to say. It's so weird. She reaches up to his neck to feel the heat from the sun where it’s lightly pink, but what she feels is his mouth over hers instead._

_She not sure who pushed and who pulled, but he’s lying atop her—her back and her head resting in the soft sand. She shifts so his leg rests between hers to pull him closer and she can taste the sweetness of the rum still clinging to his tongue. She can feel the sand in her hair when he breaks away from her lips to move down her body; his hands and his mouth everywhere she wants them._

_His hair is thick between her fingers as she holds it tightly as he moves past her navel and nudges the edge of her swimsuit down. She lifts her hips to help get it off even faster—she can’t get it off fast enough._

_The people had disappeared, but anyone could walk by and she wouldn't have cared at all._

_She could hear the waves again......stronger, more powerful than before, as they crashed on the shore. She had missed the roar of the ocean, but it was the roar in her ears that drowned it all out when she felt his mouth moving up the inside of her thigh and she held her breath....._

~~~~~~~~

She scrambles to sit up and tries to control her labored breathing as the darkness of her room comes into focus. Her feet were tangled in the sheets where she must have been shifting restlessly. She could still feel the sand in her hair and the lingering sweet taste of rum. She pulled the nightshirt over her head that was soaked in sweat and stumbled to the dresser in the dark to replace not only the shirt but her panties as well.

_It had been a long time that's all--simple explanation. She had just been alone a long time._

There was no way she was attracted to him--that was preposterous. He just wasn't horrible to look at…..and he wasn't terrible at conversation. _It was purely a chemical reaction that's all_ , she assures herself. Hormones--plain and simple. _Maybe she’d had too much to drink_ , she thinks, but she’d barely gotten buzzed at all and that had been hours ago.

He wasn't the sullen, damaged, spurned groom everyone described him as. He was funny and nice and quick-witted and even had an adventurous streak that allowed him to overcome his fear of open water. He was nice. She liked being around him….

She knew it couldn’t go anywhere but knew it would end badly, nonetheless.

.............................................


	3. Friday

Chapter 3

**Friday**

Din wakes up, the most energetic since he arrived at the island. He dresses quickly after taking a shower and heads outside, oddly optimistic about his remaining days here. He grabs an early breakfast and stops by the pier to thank Cara for the previous day but finds himself lingering around her boat after he'd expressed his gratitude and given her the extra pastry he'd grabbed in case she hadn't eaten. He doesn't seem keen to leave and neither does she. 

She works on the boat while they talk and while he doesn't seem to be in a hurry to leave, neither is she in a hurry to watch him go. She has an idea. _She'll probably regret this,_ she thinks, but what the hell?

She says she has something to show him if he wants to go out for a quick trip. He doesn't even pretend to need to mull it over before he agrees and takes a seat on one of the few dry benches she hadn't gotten around to spraying down yet. She ends up just taking him to the other side of the bay. He doesn't seem put out by the short trip to a beach that doesn't offer much to look at but white sand but she feels like she should justify why she chose that spot instead of somewhere further way or more exciting. "There's lots of starfish here," she says. "You said you wanted to see some."

They walk the beach for hours, just talking and enjoying one another's company. It's so easy; even easier than yesterday, and it makes her stomach twist. She feels there should be some alarm bells going off in her head at how quickly she's taken a liking to him when she doesn't like people in general, but there's not. He's different, in not a totally unappealing way. Maybe he's kind of attractive she admits. Okay, fine. He's nice to look at--so shoot her.

True to her word there are big pink and purple starfish everywhere just a few feet into the water. There's nothing picturesque for tourists to come here, but the way the currents make nutrients pool in this one area causes the five-pointed animals to flock here in groves. She takes his picture with a starfish held in his hands and texts it to the number he gives her, so he'll have a copy. "I can feel it moving, hurry up," he tells her, as she tries to get a better shot. "It's a bottom feeder," she assures him, "you're perfectly safe.....unless it extrudes its stomach and thinks you taste like a clam."

"Haha, good one, hurry up."

"You did technically eat mollusk last night," she reminds him to rile him up. "Maybe that's why it likes you." He can see its little tube feet reaching out all over his fingers.

"Give me your other hand," she demands, and he offers it. 

She plops a second one in his other hand and laughs at the look on his face when she puts one on his head for good measure and sends another series of pictures. She places the echinoderms back in the water and points to a lone hammock off in the distance and they start off in that direction. It would be nice to sit down on something other than sand. 

There's a hammock suspended between two trees near this rarely visited beach and she decides they can have lunch there. She shows him how to get into a hammock after his disastrous first two attempts almost leave him on the ground, tangled in the rope netting. She gets in first to stabilize it and he gets in opposite her, near her feet. As he leans back the hammock shifts and he blindly grabs her bare thigh in a panic as he feels it swing like it might flip, before letting go so fast her leg must have burnt him.

His hand was warm on her thigh and even after he pulled it back the warmth lingered. Her mind helpfully superimposed her dream from the previous night and she hoped the pink color on her face and chest could be blamed on the sun. 

They end up staying there the rest of the day. She's pretty sure they both fell asleep at some point in the shade. She can't remember the last time she enjoyed the beach this much. She saw it every day, but this was somehow different.

After the sun sinks down around the horizon, she finally nudges him. "It is getting late. I need to have dinner so I can go to sleep and do all this again tomorrow. I have some people booked at 9 o'clock."

"I have two free meals every night with my stay….because of ….well you probably know.” He knows she probably _knows_ but she hasn't mentioned it and he doesn't really want to ruin the mood and mention it either. "Why don’t you have the other one,” he offers. “You can order whatever you like: lobster, steak, clams... or all of the above.”

"I don't know Din.....I used to work at the hotel you're staying at and I didn't really leave a lot of friends behind when I left...." She wants to help him recoup the cost of the prepaid meals, but she has no love lost for that place.

"I'm sure they won't be rude if they see you, if that's what you're worried about,” he tells her.

"I don't know.....” she hesitates. “It's nice of you to offer, but if the waiter knows me and causes a scene......”

"Please? My treat," he insists.

"Okay, it’s just dinner" she gives in without any more fuss. _What the hell was wrong with her?_ All her arguments went out the window when he said please. She had zero good memories of that place, but she did want to share a real meal with him.

"Okay?" He looks so happy. She knows this will go to Hell in a handbasket, but is willing to try and bear it so he smiles like that again.

"Okay."

They have dinner on the patio near the bar and the empty stage where a band plays on Saturdays. It's casual so she throws on a longer coverup and he throws on a shirt with his swim shorts. The food is amazing, the drinks are amazing, and the company is amazing…..so then why does she feel so anxious looking around her old stomping grounds? She hadn't worked there in almost five years but the memories surrounding it were making her feel ill.

All of the waiters that have come near their table were faces she thankfully didn't recognize, but she felt paranoid anyway and she couldn't settle the feeling like she shouldn't be there. 

"Pick whatever dessert you want ," he says graciously, unaware of the anxiety that's making her stomach tense up.

" _More_ food?" she asks, gesturing to the wine, and the three dessert plates already on the table. "What exactly are you getting out of all this?” she asks, suspiciously, “I'm not sleeping with you if that's your plan."

At the hurt look on his face, she instantly feels like an asshole. 

"What? No! It's not,” he exclaims. “I just appreciate he company. I'm not trying to get in your pants, I swear."

"I'm not wearing any pants," she chimes in, not helpful in any way, by drawing his attention to her legs.

"I'm not looking for anything in return, honest," he tells her.

"Look, I'm sorry, Din. I didn't mean that. That was shitty. I'm just not used to people being nice without wanting something return."

"I'm not trying to be a creep. I wanted to share dinner with you, that's all."

Her misplaced anger deflates as she can see how hurt he was by her careless words. She didn't really think he was trying to 'buy' her, it’s just .....when was the last time someone had said they enjoyed being around her and asked her to dinner? Years. Almost five years if she rounded up. 

"I know. I was just being a bitch,” she says apologetically. “I didn't mean it. You seem really nice. I'm just on edge being here. That's all."

He can see her nervously looking around like she had been the whole time they were eating. She was getting more and more frantic the more they sat here though, and he felt guilty for asking it of her. He hadn't listened to her--she had told him she had a bad history there and he brushed it aside to try to share dinner with her. He wanted to provide her a nice dinner to say 'thank you', but he selfishly wanted to spend time with her too. 

"I didn't realize it made you that uneasy, just being here," he admits. "I wouldn't have kept bothering you to join me if I had...."

"You didn't force me to come," she tells him. "I just don't have a lot of great memories here. People were really shitty when I quit, but I didn't think it would bother me as much as it does. I thought maybe I was over it, but I guess not."

"Let's get outta here then." 

She doesn't need any convincing. She's out of the chair in a flash. 

They go walking by the water after sunset just to put some distance between them and the hotel. They can't take glass out on the sand, so they get their to-go drinks in styrofoam cups instead.

She's been so kind and generous, but he can't ignore the elephant in the room even if it kills the pleasant mood. She thought he was giving her things because he had an ulterior motive, but that couldn't be further from the truth. They find a nice spot to sit down on the sand and dig little divots in the sand for their cups. When they're comfortable, he bites the bullet and does his best to try to explain. "I'm sure you know my sob story by now. It seems everybody does."

"I try not to engage in the rumor mill, but I've heard people talking," she admits. she tries to make him feel better. "I don't put much stock in the local gossip if that's what you're worried about."

"It's true though," he tells her, knowing she'd look at him differently now. "That's why I'm here by myself......why I have an extra dinner to give away," he explains. "I want you to know I'm not trying to trick you or ....whatever it is you think."

As whenever he's in her presence, he finds himself talking when he should just stay quiet. _She does something to his brain._ He tells her about Laura--the fiancé he could never seem to please, but desperately wanted to. He doesn't know why, but suddenly he's telling her about the two engagement rings he'd bought her; the second to replace he first she didn't think was flashy enough. He recalls his suspicions she cheated on him and her possessive behavior around her phone. Looking back, her accusations that _he_ was cheating on _her_ was just projecting or gaslighting--whatever they call it nowadays. He tells her of their wedding day that came and went and how she had never mentioned anything was amiss. They had signed for the flowers and approved the cake and things were just fine at the rehearsal dinner, or so it seemed. Cara listens as he recalls standing there in the church until her absence couldn't be explained away by running late or a spill on her dress--she simply wasn't coming. He tells Cara about going home in his rented tuxedo and never hearing from her again, though friends who they had in common said she had moved out of state the day of the wedding with one of her friends from college. She had been on the road by the time the ceremony had been set to start and Din stood there waiting completely oblivious until it was clear he was just a well-dressed fool. 

Cara's sad for him of course, but sadness if not the emotion that's at the forefront right now--it's anger. _Damn. Who would leave a guy like that, and a nice guy like Din? What in the actual fuck? What kind of monster treats another human being like that?_

"I'm sorry Din," she says sympathetically. "If it makes you feel any better, you seem like a really good guy. She must have been a real bitch--sorry you had to go through that." 

"It fucked me up pretty bad," he admits. "It left me with so many questions I still don't have answers to: 

What's wrong with me? 

What didn't I do or what DID I do to cause this to happen? 

What could I have done differently or what should I have seen written on the walls? 

What is it about _me_ that--"

She cuts him off angrily. "Bullshit!" He actually startles a bit at the force behind her exclamation. He hadn't expected her to jump to his defense so strongly. 

"I don't know anything about Laura, but I _know_ it wasn't you," she tells him. "That's bullshit! There's something wrong with _her_. Good people don't treat other people like that. This is on _her_ , not you."

He looks like he's actually mulling her words over in his head. She hoped he found some sort of comfort in them and was on the road to remembering his self-worth. It was the truth--she had meant every word. 

He proposes a toast. "Love sucks," he says sagely, as he raises his styrofoam cup in salute. She tips hers against his and they share a drink.

"It's still fresh, that's all, that's why it hurts so much. You'll begin to heal with time,” she tells him. “I'm certain someone right for you will come along."

Some time passes in quiet stillness before he gets the courage to ask her the next logical thing that comes to mind. “You ever been in love, Cara?”

The heavy sigh she lets out that must weigh a thousand pounds tells him everything he needs to know, but he listens closely anyway. “I thought I was once---" she corrects herself, “--twice, I guess.”

"What happened?"

"I wasn't enough, so he left," she tells him, trying to make it seem like not such a big deal. She pretended she was over it. "Both times actually...."

"What kind of shitty excuse did they give you?" _You're wonderful, he wants to say. Who in their right mind would ever leave you?_

"No real excuse," she tells him." They both just up and left too. So, I might have some clue what you're feeling now and I'm telling you it's no fault in _you_."

"Who would ever leave _you_? You can't possibly know what it's like." He had meant it to sound like a compliment, but it obviously had been taken very differently.

She might have looked less hurt if he had actually slapped her. " _Excuse me_?" she said, in total disbelief. _She knew all too well what it was like to be left feeling inadequate, though admittedly not in such a public way._

She stands so fast, her drinks spills over the top and down her hand. "I'm going to head back. Thanks for dinner."

"No wait! please I'm sorry. That came out wrong!" he exclaims, stumbling to his feet before she leaves. "I didn't mean to make you upset. Please stay."

" _Why_?” she asks curtly, “So you can tell me what I can and can't feel?"

"I'm sorry. That was selfish. I'm not dismissing what you went through. I'm sorry for putting my foot in my mouth. I'd like to hear it if you want to talk about it."

_No, she absolutely did not want to talk about it_, she thought, but then why were her lips moving and words coming out? She wanted to tell him, even though he'd probably lose all respect for her, only so she could tell prove to him that she knew from personal experience that the fault wasn't with HIM--she knew that firsthand. 

"I'll tell you about the _first_ one," she decided, despite knowing it's not a flattering story on her part. Maybe it'll help him feel a little bit better though, and that thought makes her follow through with it. "I gave up a full scholarship to swim for UCLA to stay here because he told me he didn't want me to leave to go to the States without him. He said after high school we'd get married and we could go together. It was only after I turned it down and lost my scholarship, did I find out he had been cheating on me. Jeff moved away with his girlfriend, _ironically to the U.S. not even a month later_ , and I was stuck here not only mortified but unable to pay to go to school. I made my own dumb choice and I had to own up to it. In the end, I couldn't blame anyone but myself for throwing away that opportunity. I stayed for him, but I wasn't enough to make him want to stay for me."

Din feels like there's more to her story--there's still something dark behind her eyes. She's known another sadness, he can just feel it in his bones, and he feels his stomach clench wishing she didn't. She was a good person.

"You said that was the first one, what about the other one?” he asks to try to give her a gentle nudge. “It might be better if you get it off your chest. I can be a pretty good listener."

She chickened out at the last second. "I don't talk about the other one," she says firmly, leaving no room for negotiation. She hated that she was a coward, when she so wanted to be honest with him.

"It might help get it off your chest so it's not weighing on you," he suggests, trying to be supportive after he selfishly put his foot in his mouth earlier.

She steels her face into something happy and casual. "Nothing to worry about and nothing is weighing on me. I just don't want to talk about it." 

He lets the matter drop. IF she wants to tell him, he'll listen, but he won't push her and make her feel worse. He changes the subject to something happier. "You have a good life now, though right? I mean, you live on a tropical paradise and you're on the water everyday. That's a good life isn't it?"

She can throw on the rehearsed smile at the drop of a hat by now, though it feels wrong to use it with him. "Yep. Free as a bird," she lies convincingly; her voice happy and playful. "I'm definitely living the good life--nothing to complain about. Life is perfect." She wonders if he can see through her fake smile, since he's seen a few of her rare _real_ ones, or if he's as easily fooled by her mask as everyone else. 

"I envy your freedom," he tells her, "your life on the water and being your own boss with nothing holding you down. I'm glad you're happy now." He knows the smile on her face is for show--purely for his benefit-- but he won't call her on it when she's trying so hard to be convincing. She must have really been upset to deflect this hard.

She had made him feel better for the first time since he hopped on a plane the day after his supposed 'wedding', and he wanted the same for her. He regrets asking her to talk about that asshole when it obviously still bothered her. He tries to sound comforting. "Cara, you didn't want to be with someone like that in the long run who would make you feel less than you are.... you deserve so much better than that. You should be loved, and respected, and treasured. I'm glad you didn't marry that asshole."

_Bingo,_ Cara thinks.

Despite her misery at ripping open old wounds, it had been worth it to bring him to that natural conclusion on his own. That's exactly what she had been waiting for him to say. "You going to take your own advice then, Din?" she asks, leadingly. "It may suck today and tomorrow, but you dodged a bullet a week ago. If you don't know it now, you'll know it one day." She tells him

He takes stock of his body and realizes his heart hurts much less than it did before and he knows the reason--this kind soul--this kind _woman_ in front of him…..

"It doesn't suck as much as it did even just a few days ago," he tells her honestly, "and I have you to thank for that. I'm glad I met you."

She wasn't looking at him, instead looking out over the dark water on shimmering from the moonlight, but he could see a smile on her face, practically lighting up the dark. It wasn't the brilliant kind that accompanied loud laughter and jokes like earlier, but the soft hesitant kind that creeps out without you realizing it--the one that was a real glimpse of her happiness. It made something clench in his chest at how much he wanted to see it again.

He barely sees her lips move, but he hears her soft words said all the same. They were so quiet though, maybe she had meant to say them only to herself. “Me too.”

........................


	4. Saturday

Chapter 4

**Saturday**

They go out at first light and she throws some bait to entice some sharks to circle The Ocean Crest. They watch them together through the glass bottom of the boat and she returns him to the dock by 8:30 to get ready for her first charter trip. He hangs out around the dock to see the group she's taking out.

It's almost 9 when he sees her loading passengers and pulling in the ropes and their eyes meet. Before she takes off, he walks over. "Would you have dinner with me tonight? I'd like to make up for the last one."

"You leave tomorrow, right?" She knows this is probably the last chance she'll get to be around him.

"Tomorrow _night_ , yeah."

"Yeah, sure,” she agrees. “Dinner would be nice."

"Anywhere you like," he tells her.

"Can we try the hotel patio again?" she suggests, much to his surprise.

"What? No! You hated it there. I'm not asking you to be miserable twice!"

His vehemence makes her chuckle. It makes her feel appreciated that he wants her to be more comfortable than last night, but she's also slightly embarrassed and hopes to redeem herself. "I was childish. I ruined the night by letting my nerves take over my mouth. I want to try again."

"Are you sure?" he asks hesitantly. "There are plenty of other places to go."

  
"I'm sure," she says, with more confidence than she feels. "We're definitely going to get your money’s worth on that prepaid monstrosity," she says, as she gestures to the band on his wrist. "I'm getting the clams AND the lobster.............. and maybe a steak for dessert."

"I've always wanted to order seven desserts," Din says mischievously, getting into the spirit.

"There you go!" she says excitedly and pats him on the back.

She meets him for dinner when her long day on the water is done. The outdoor seating on the deck is wonderful but it all feels so _romantic_ where it hadn't the night before. There were gauzy billowy white sheet draped between the trees and hundreds of tea-light candles lit everywhere. The band in the background only added to the ambiance.

He feels oddly self-conscious that this feels so much like a date. "Sorry this looks like it's out of a bad romance movie,” he says. “It didn't look like this yesterday. They go all out on Saturday nights I guess."

"Yeah, they always have," Cara confirms, remembering when she used to have to light all those candles on Saturdays herself. 

She tries to turn down the expensive wine the waiter brings, but she eventually has a glass and then a second. They look like any other couple, she thinks, and hopes it doesn't make him uncomfortable, given his recent poor luck with love. It makes sense the waiter thinks they're together though; this _is _a couples resort. They order as much "free" food as they possibly can since it was all paid for anyway. They almost make it a game who can order and eat the most extravagant dishes.

"If you want to fit in with the locals, we eat the shrimp with the heads on," she tells him before chomping down on the steamed shrimp in her hand; head, shell, and all.

"What?" He stares down the face of the prawn, before letting out an uncertain, "okay...." and going in to take a bite. She realizes he's actually going to try it. She spits out her bite and reaches out to him. "Oh my god! I'm kidding. I'm kidding, don't!" she yelps, and grabs it out of his hand, laughing.

……..

The night had gone off without a hitch. Between the food and the drinks and the company it was the best time she could remember having in years. She should have known it was too good to be true.

A different waiter shows up by their table and while Din hardly notices, he sees Cara's face go eerily white. "Well, well, well. I can't believe you finally decided to show your face here again, Dune,” he says nastily. “You always thought you were better than us, so what's the deal? Fallen on hard times to be around us mere mortals gain?" 

Din's wicker chair makes a scraping sound as he stands quickly to put himself between this jackass and his unlikely friend. "Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" He got a small bit of satisfaction he was taller than this asshole.

Cara stands too, behind him. He hears her make a hurried apology to him before she walks off down toward the pier. "I'm sorry Din. Stay and enjoy your dinner."

"We're coming back,” he tells the _other_ waiter--the nice one-- who's staring at the whole scene with his mouth open. "Don't take our food."

"This was a mistake," is the only thing she says, when he walks up behind her. 

"Having dinner? I swear I didn't know they'd make it look like a date," he says. "And that other asshole? Don't let him ruin your night."

"I knew how the decorate on Saturdays.....I used to work there, remember?” she says. “That's not it." 

"What is it then?” he asks, concerned. “I know you could have dealt with that idiot back there, so what else is it? Did I do something wrong?"

She shakes her head. He's adorable when he's uncertain, _or maybe that's just the wine talking_ , she thinks. He deserves better than her walking out with no explanation. “I haven't been totally honest with you, but I want to be. You deserve it.”

"What is it?" he asks, eager to hear whatever she has to say. _What had she held back that could possibly make her this upset?_

"I lied to you before,” she finally says. “I'm not that carefree. I don't live the life of freedom and adventure I told you I did. The truth is I have a kid……"

When he doesn't immediately walk away, she starts telling him the real story of how she used to work at the hotel. She was too embarrassed to tell the people she worked with she was knocked up, and said she quit to start her own business, which was kind of true..... It wasn't until one of them spun it to make her out to be a stuck-up bitch, did they all treat her like an outcast--like she thought she was suddenly better than everyone. Those were the people she thought were her friends, but she’d seen their true colors when she really needed them. There was a reason she didn't reach out to make friends anymore....Din was just ......different.

"I'm sorry they treated you like that,” he says, understandingly. “People suck sometimes."

She can't let herself get distracted if she has any hope of getting through the next part. She hasn't re-told any of what had actually happened a single time since she found she was suddenly alone and expecting, but he deserves to know why she was acting so strangely--why she knew exactly what he was going through and had bristled so fiercely when he said she could never have an idea what it was like to be left alone. 

She wants to speak but she doesn't know how. His hand is on her arm to show her there’s no rush. "Take your time."

She takes a deep breath. "A few years ago, I met a man while I was working at the hotel. He wasn't a guest, but came for the live band like a lot of the locals do. Jeffrey-- _yes, I know that damned name_ \-- was handsome, charming, smart, successful, and seemed like he liked me for me. Said he lived in town, on the other side of the island. One thing led to another and it was a whirlwind romance like out of one of those trashy books with a woman on the cover with a ripped bodice. We spent almost every waking moment together. I practically lived at his house, which was gorgeous and had its own private dock. I fell so hard for him over those few weeks, but it was love at first sight that really made it so special.....

Her voice changed at that last bit and Din’s heart sank before she continued. He knew this was about to take a painful turn and he almost didn’t want to hear it. It wasn't that he didn't want to understand, he just didn't want to hear her re-live something that brought her so much heartache.

“That should have been my first clue, right?" she says, self-deprecatingly. "I wanted so badly to for it to be real after what had happened.... _before_ , but a month later he was gone--no word, no note, never heard from him again."

“I’m sor----" he only half gets out as he tries to comfort her, but she cuts him off, clearly not done with the story.

“I have a son," she admits quietly. "His last parting gift before he left and never looked back."

Din looks horrified but she can't tell at which part. His lips are actually parted in shock, but she pushes through. "I hired a private investigator and it turned out he was married-- family, couple of kids--the whole shebang. He was on a _vacation_ from New Jersey. That’s what I am to people, Din,” she tells him, sadly, “a vacation thing--something they use and move on from without ever being worth a second thought. The first time with Jeff I thought it was _him_. The second time with Jeffrey….." 

She had to pause and clear her throat. Her eyes felt hot and she's horrified to find she might actually cry. "--it's a trend," she states to Din as he listens closely. "The common factor is _me_...... I drive people away or....or I show them they can treat me like I’m nothing but an accessory; like a watch or a pair of shoes you can put on and take off when you feel like it. I’m not memorable, I don’t stick with anyone. I decided it was never going to happen again, so I just refuse to get close to anyone.” _Except you......._

It’s dark by the water but she can feel him watching her in the dark. She knows he’s judging her, thinking she’s a gullible idiot and the biggest kind of fool; but then why does it feel so warm when he looks at her? He’s not laughing. That’s something.

Fuck it. She'd already ruined his night throwing all this on him. He probably thought she was a lunatic, but he was still here, and she could at least use the free therapy. He hadn't run off yet. Maybe he'd be kind enough to listen to it all before showing himself to the door and taking away the one good thing she'd come across in years. 

Din took it all in.

_Shit._

_She had it worse._ He felt terrible now pushing her to talk about it. He'd been left at the alter but she'd been left with a kid. He'd been tricked at the _end_ but she'd been tricked from day one into thinking this man loved her when he was clearly after only one thing. He tries not to think of her face, happy and in love with someone who was just taking advantage of her good heart. 

He thought back to every self-deprecating joke she had made about not being a people person and how he'd joked that she wasn't good with people himself. He wished he could take it back even though he thought he was just playing along with her joke.

“How old is he?” he tries to ask in a pleasant voice to distract her. He hoped she’d say he was ten or twelve, meaning this was an old would and something she had long since moved past. He didn’t like the thought of her still hurting if it was more recent than that.

“He’s three,” she tells him.

_Fuck. No wonder she was still so gun-shy. He understood only all too well, but at the same time he couldn't even imagine ......_

“Believe me, I never really did the baby thing and I'm never going to be mother of the year, but he's the very best of me," she says, and her whole voice changes when she talks about him. "I had to be strong for him, so I was. It was that simple." He can feel how much she loves him, and it changes the entire mood of the conversation. Only a mother's selfless love could explain how she bears a physical reminder she has every day of being lied to and left behind and still loves this child wholly and unconditionally. Din feels like the worst kind of asshole for his own pity party now. "He’s the one purely good thing I have to call my own,” she tells him. “He’s the only reason I saved up to get my own boat, so I could make a living for him. We're doing slightly better than paycheck to paycheck, but not by much. It kind of sucks keeping up the facade all the time of the happy go lucky joy of living in paradise. People want a vacation, Din, not a real person. I have to put in the bare minimum for the tourists every day--put on a big smile and keep them happy, no matter what's going on at home.”

“You don't do the bare minimum," he tells her firmly. "You go out of your way to give people a memorable experience. I've seen it."

“No, I don’t," she tells him. "You're just different. I don't know why, but you are.” It feels almost freeing to admit that he made her feel so differently than anyone else she'd met before. 

_Shit_. He's kept her from working for two days now. He apologizes profusely. “I'm sorry I’ve taken up so much of your time. You should have said something. I'll make up for the lost wages I swear. I can write you a check.” 

She scoffs and looks offended. _He was seriously considering paying HER for reminding her how to have fun; reminding her there were good people still out there?_ He’d done her a huge service and given her something she’d hold onto for a long time. It didn’t sit right with her that he wanted to pay her like she’d done him a favor instead.

“Don't worry about it,” she tells him, and brushes off his offer. “It's been the only break I've ever taken. It's nice to feel like a person; almost a _friend_ instead of just a hired tour guide; a _woman_ again and not just somebody's mother. I kind of forgot what _Cara_ was like, if that makes sense. I’ve had to be so strong all the time that I had forgotten what it was like to think about anything else.”

“I'm sure you're a great mom," he says. He looks back on her patience teaching him to swim in a whole new light. "Does he love the water?”

That got a smile out of her at least. “Like a fish.”

“I’m not trying to dig up sympathy, I just…..” she struggles coming up with a reason she’s spilling her guts to him that doesn’t sound crazy. “You seem nice Din, and I feel like I owe you an explanation for why I am the way I am.”

“And how is that?” he asks, unsure of what she thinks about herself and how he perceives her. 

“Cold,” she says automatically, “unable to get close to people, despite wanting to sometimes. You haven’t done anything wrong, it’s just me.”

“You're anything but cold and you haven't been unapproachable at all," he tells her, "quite the opposite, really. I feel like I've known you for years. It’s weird”

"You're surprisingly easy to talk to," she replies, and it's the only reason she can come up with that explains the easy give and take she feels with him. "Thanks for listening to my shit." She wipes angrily at her face, pissed off the salty water that dare show up on her face wasn't just ocean spray.

He squeezes her hand. "Thanks for listening to mine."

She's suddenly so tired. The wine had long since left her system, but she still feels her head rest against his shoulder. He puts his arm around her in the most comforting half-embrace she can remember, and she lets her eyes close. "We're a mess, aren't we?" she mumbles against him.

He chuckles. "Yeah, we are. But we can be a mess together for a while. At least mine came with free food."

At that, she sniffles a sound that might have been a laugh.

She gets her traitorous leaking eyes and runny nose under control while Din pretends not to notice. 

“Look Din, if you don't want to out on the water again tomorrow, I get it. You don't have to make some excuse to be polite, or walk on eggshells expecting me to fall apart," she promises him. "I get it. If I were you, I wouldn't want to be around me either. You must think I'm crazy.”

"Are you kidding? I'm really looking forward to it.”

"Yeah?" she asks slightly disbelieving, barely tilting her face to look up at his chin, "I was kind of looking forward to it too."

“And if you're worried I might think less of you after what you just told me, I can tell you your worry is misplaced. I don't think you're crazy at all. I think you're one of the strongest people I've ever met."

"Mmmm." The affirmative sound she made let him know she heard him, but it doesn't sound all that convinced. 

“Look. I just have to say this one thing--you deserve to be happy, Cara--to have someone who cares about you and loves you. You shouldn't settle. You're worth so much more than that.”

“All evidence to the contrary," she argues. "I’m a good time," she says. "Pretty, maybe, but nothing deeper than that to stick around for. That’s what they’ve all said--maybe not in words, but in actions."

“Fuck everybody else then!” he says, angry that these people could affect her self-worth this much.

“I’d rather not," she tries to joke to lighten the mood, but he's not allowing her to deflect with humor. She needs to hear this and he needs to say it. 

“You're beautiful, yes, but that's not what I'll remember--It's not what I see sitting here in the dark with you," he says honestly.

She snorts. “Is this the part in the cheesy movie where I ask you what you _do_ see?”

He was going to tell her even if she didn't ask. “I can’t see your face or your body in the dark, but I see your kindness. I see you're selfless, you're funny, you're compassionate. You're strong, adventurous, and fun-loving. I may not be able to see it right now, but I can feel it just being around you.” 

“Oh, stop flattering me," she says, feeling her face heat up at his kind words of praise. "I'm not trying to fish for compliments. I can't even believe I just told you all that, I just .... you seem nice....I wanted you to know why I'm so terrible at this.”

“At what?”

“ _This_.” she gestures between them. “I don’t know….getting close to another person....... _friends_? If that's what you'd call _this_.”

“That's exactly what I'd call it," he says. "Look, I have another day here,” he tells her. “I’d really like it if we were friends another 24 hours.”

"I would too." she says. When she finds her center and is feeling herself again she tells him, "I'm ready to head back now and order more desserts if you still want to be seen with me."

"I can't imagine anything I'd rather do than eat enough desserts with you that we both want to puke."

"You have such a way with words for an accountant. Are you sure you're not a poet or a writer?"

He laughs as he stands and extends a hand down to her to help bring her to her feet in the soft sand.

They make it back to the table and see that new plates and glasses have been brought out. He pours them both another glass of wine before the waiter can do it himself.

“You feel better?” he asks, as her face returns to normal and all traces of the emotional release on the sand that was long overdue is erased with the wine and cake in front of her.

“Yes," she assures him, and really means it. “I hope you don't find this offensive," she tells him, "but Laura was a dumb bitch to walk away from you.”

He laughs and it's beautiful. That had not been what he expected her to say but it was perfect. His eyes are still crinkled at the corners when he returns the sentiment.

“So was Jeff and the other Jeff-- total douchebags. It doesn’t reflect on you at all.”

“I like to think so.”

“Professional advice," he says, "stay from people that have the letters 'j' 'e' and 'f' in their names.”

“Thank you for that. That’s very helpful," she says with a fake irritated voice, but she was smiling.

"If that other waiter comes back, I'll punch him in the face for you," he tells her. "Will that help?" She snorts as she takes another sip of wine.

"Believe, me. I'd love to punch him myself,” she says, “but that's a nice offer, thank you."

“You're a hell of woman, Cara," he tells her, hoping not too much of his honest admiration of her is seeping through. He can't seem to help himself from continuing though. "More than that, you're a hell of a _person_. I'm glad our paths crossed.”

The band starts playing and she's glad for the distraction. She's happy she finally cleared the air and feels lighter than she had in years at getting that secret off her chest, but she's done being sad for the night. He leaves tomorrow, and she wants to see him laugh at least once more.

“Do you dance?” she asks, and he sees the mischievous glint in her eye. He’s just so glad that it’s replaced the melancholy self-loathing look that he’d do pretty much anything to keep it there. Except dancing ….

“Nope, definitely not,” he stated.

"Good, neither do I. Come on," she says, as she pulls him to his feet. 

He lets her.

She's smiling triumphantly at his grumpy face as he drags his feet to join her and he makes a dramatic sigh just to make her laugh.

The music is upbeat and fun to sway to. It's easy to fall into a two-step when all of the songs they play are lively and chosen specifically to dance to easily. 

He manages to spin her a few times and vice versa until their laughter is almost as loud as the live music. He tries to dip her. They're twirling and dancing along with the upbeat music and the mood from earlier was forgotten. He spins her out and brings her in again. He does this weird finger-guns thing and she laughs so hard that her hand in his has to let go and hold onto his shoulders to keep herself standing. 

The music slows down, and her chest is pressed against his for the next song that's soft and melodic. He hears her voice from earlier….

_'I'm someone who is a good time'_

Her words echo in his head as he watches her laugh as he tries and fails to spin her counterclockwise. He can't remember ever feeling like this. She spins _him_ while he's distracted and he almost steps on her poor foot.

He hears her voice again in his head. _"I'm not memorable or someone who sticks with you."_ Her face is next to his. Their cheeks touch as they sway, but there's no fiery heat to make them pull back from overstepping, just warmth. Warmth everywhere….. 

"I just wanted you to know. You taught me to swim," he says, as the music quiets down. Her face rests against his shoulder.

"I remember," she tells him in good humor, "I almost drowned trying."

"I'll have that for the rest of my life. You will absolutely stick with me Cara. You made these days that I figured would be the worst week of my life the absolute best. You turned everything around. You claim you're easy to forget, but I won't forget you."

"I'm mortified I cried in front of you." She buries her face into his collarbone. His hand comes up to rest against her hair.

"Do you want me to cry in front of you to make us even?” he asks. “A few days ago, it would have been easy. That's all I seemed to do."

"What changed?” she asks. She's glad he's moved past that. He shouldn't shed another tear over that woman.

"That's easy. I met you..." 

_You made me laugh; made me remember what it was like to be looked at like someone worth getting to know. You stopped the boat way too hard and made me stop and see the beauty around me instead of just the darkness I thought I was drowning in. You showed me how to swim._

That night as he lays in his bed and smells the fresh salty air drifting through the slats in the wooden shutters, he dreams about her. Honestly, he’s not surprised, but it’s not what he'd expect. The dream didn’t feature her scantily clad or touching him at all. In fact, she was wearing a long dress and her hair was down. They were sitting side by side on the beach, their fingertips almost touching. The tide was going out.

Every time he looked at her and saw her smile she was further away. He tried to call out to her, to ask her not to leave, but he couldn’t speak, and he couldn’t move to follow her. Then she was gone, and he could feel himself squinting to catch a glimpse of her in the distance. He woke up overcome with a feeling of sadness. He was glad he’d get to see her in the morning to replace that image with one that was smiling and moving towards him instead of away. He just remembered though….he was leaving tomorrow.

..............................................


	5. Sunday

Chapter 5

**Sunday**

His final day, she shows him this spot on another part of the island--Salt Cay. Provo was almost entirely flat; boasting no mountains, jungles, or waterfalls, but there was still plenty of natural beauty all around.

She takes him to the opposite end of the island to go snorkeling again. He's much better this time. It’s not only noticeable to her, but he can feel it too. He’s more relaxed--more confident, and it shows. Barracuda emerging from out of nowhere to size him up still freak him out, but he stays calm this time. He doesn’t know when he’ll get to experience something so incredible again, so he enjoys every second of it.

They spend the rest of the day walking the length of the white beaches, ducking into the shade of the palm trees off and on to cool down and get a minute of shade. Talking had never been a pastime she was a fan of, but this wasn’t a chore. It was easy. It was enjoyable even; _fun_ if she was honest. When they’ve had enough walking and talking about nothing of importance other than getting to know each other, they headed back to the boat where she takes him to one of her favorite places on the island. It’s not special in any way that would draw tourists there, and she thinks maybe that’s why she’s always found such solace here. She didn’t even think about it until they were sitting on the bank of the lagoon, that she had never shared this place with anyone else.

She pulled out a late lunch and snack for the both of them, but Din surprised her by reaching into his bag and providing some fruit and bottles of water for them to share as well. _That was thoughtful_ , she thought, though she didn’t mind providing the meals. He was technically her guest, but he seemed to have no problem sharing his orange with her.

A group of pelicans fly low over the water and she pulls him out of the shady trees to get a better look. She let out a yelp as she stepped on a piece of glass or a sharp shell and it went into the soft arch of her foot. His arms shot out to catch her. There's a slight breeze but it can't explain the goosebumps that break out all over her arms at his touch. He saw the tiny goosebumps popping up on her skin. "You're cold?" he asks, and puts his arms more firmly around her to stave off the wind. Not only does she let him, but she wraps her arms around him in return. She knows she's an idiot relishing in the warmth of his comfort, but she doesn't want him to pull away just yet. They both know they have to leave soon to get him back for his shuttle by nightfall.

"It's pretty breezy, do you want to go back?" he asks her, when she shivers.

"No, not yet."

“Me neither.”

He offered her his shirt, but she turned it down, so he kept his arms around her as the sun went down over the water. _That’s something friends do, right?_

Over the next hour the sky went from yellow to orange, before changing dramatically to pink and purple before their eyes. The purple color of the sky reflected off the shiny black of her hair and he couldn’t look away. The pinks and soft blues mixing with the purple had taken over the entire sky now. He watched her face as she took in the sight and wondered if she felt as he did. _Like he’d never really watched the sunset before and wondered if he could ever watch it again without thinking about this moment—without remembering her_. Their faces were so close together. She must have felt his eyes on her and turned her face slightly to look at him. Before he knew what he was doing, he felt her mouth--her sun-chapped lips under his. He had kissed her. He could practically taste the ocean on her wind whipped skin—a mixture of salt from the ocean spray and bitter sunscreen. He tasted orange and smelled coconut from the lip balm she had used earlier. The sound she made when her mouth moved under his was both a whimper and a plea. He only pulled back when it turned into a moan.

He desperately tries to rush out an apology. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't ha--"

She cuts him off pushing her lips against his firmly, re-initiating the contact that had set them both on fire. Her hand held his neck and her fingertips were in his hair. She pulls away a moment later after they've both had a moment to memorize what it felt like. They couldn't have anything else, but they could at least have this........

"Don't be sorry. I'm not," she tells him, so he's sure he didn't mess up, "it just shouldn't happen again. It can't go anywhere--you leave tonight."

"I wish I didn't," he says honestly.

She smiled sadly. "Me too."

The ride back wasn't somber but they both knew their time was over. She was an idiot, she thought. How could she let herself feel something for this man? She knew from the beginning on Thursday that he left on Sunday. He hadn’t lied or tried to trick her. She simply couldn’t help it. 

He was an idiot, he thought. How could he feel more for this woman in four days than years with the woman he was supposed to marry? For the first time, he was glad he hadn't married her. Through this river of shit, he'd found a small island of kindness where he'd gotten to catch his breath and remember he was worth more than another person's actions. Because of all this he'd gotten to meet Cara. He gotten to feel alive and adventurous and silly when she called him an dork and splashed him when he pulled her ankle and pretended it was a shark. Going back to being an accountant didn't hold the same appeal after he'd tasted rum punch, the salt water when he tried to swim, and her lips as the sun went down. Sunsets in Virginia had nothing on the turquoise water and the orange and pink skies that turned purple hear the horizon. The color of the sand that dusted her bronze leg was nothing like the beaches back home.

…….

She stands by the shuttle with him as he throws his bags in the back. This is it.

"Good luck, Din,” she says. “You 'll find someone good enough for you; someone that will make you happy and prove to you that you _are_ good enough. I'm sure of it."

He half smiles. "I kind of feel like maybe I did."

"Your shuttle is going to leave if you keep staring at me, dummy."

"I know. I can't help it,” he tells her. “I'm not in a hurry to say goodbye to you."

"Here's my business card,” she says, and she hands it to him. “Maybe next time you'll show me how great you are at swimming and we can go scuba diving.” She knew he’d never return, but it was nice to pretend. “There’re so many bigger creatures with more teeth the further down you go. It'll be fun. All tentacles and poisonous barbs.”

He laughs. "You are the worst salesman ever."

He looks down at the card in his hands. It's a plastic material, ideal in case it were to get wet. It has her email address on it. 

"Let me know if you're ever back in Turks and Caicos."

He doesn't want to say goodbye, so he just nods. It hit him how much he was truly going to miss her--her humor, her laugh, her comforting presence, and the comfortable silences that felt warm like the sun on his cheek. 

He had almost forgotten. He digs in his pockets. "I have something for you, before I leave," he tells her.

"For me?" she asked, surprised. _What could he possibly have for her?_

"I took a sunrise walk this morning and I found this,” he says, “I think it was meant for _you_ though." He hands over the object in question. It's a perfectly intact white sand dollar. It was almost impossible to find one this intact and pristine without any chips taken out it.

"Why do you think it was for _me_?" she asks, as she eyes it in wonder.

"Because I was thinking of you when it stabbed me in the foot," he tells her. "You'll be pleased to know I screamed like a little girl because I thought it was a stingray."

She laughs. "The last one I found was four years ago, before Aiden was born. Thank you"

"Can I email you even if I'm not visiting the island?" he asks her, when it’s clear his driver is ready to go.

"Is it only about business?” she asks, “helping me with my numbers with your superior accountant skills?"

"No. Not business,” he says, “just to say hi."

"Then sure, that would be nice."

He gets in the car but before the door closes, he calls out to her retreating back, "is this is your real email address?"

She laughs "Yes, but even if it wasn't, I'd give you my real one."

His smile was worth it. _It was worth all of it._

...............................................


	6. Epilogue

Chapter 6

Epilogue

He emailed her two weeks after he had returned home to Virginia and got into a schedule that was his new normal. She had texted him the pictures of him being devoured by those rogue starfish, but he wouldn’t use her phone number unless she suggested it first. 

He thought about her and her words several times those first few weeks he was finding his way, but he didn't want to bother her. Emails were sent back and forth every other day, even if there wasn't much to talk about until they both looked forward to them fondly. Emails became texts, and texts became phone calls. How he looked forward to hearing from her every day before bed now….

Over the course of the year they had discussed a chance he might be able to fly back down to the Island at some point. In the meantime, friends became something more than friends—something wonderful and familiar; intimate and warm. They were something special and cherished to each other now….

‘ _Too bad you can't live here’_ , she had said, when things between them were getting more serious. They'd both been burned before, but maybe they could take it slow if he ever found a reason to visit again. She was pretty sure she had loved him for months now. It had been a year since his breakup, but it had turned out to be the best year of his life. His phone call to Cara at 7 o’clock every night was the highlight of his day. He never missed it……except for once.

……….

When the time for their nightly call came and went, Cara was on edge. He always called her, but she dialed him this once. It rang several times before it went to voicemail. She was disappointed he didn't answer. He _always_ answered. That was their thing. She waited around but no call and she tried to avoid the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She'd wait five more minutes.

He probably wasn't blowing her off or losing interest and he probably wasn't dying on the side of a road either. He probably just fell asleep or his phone died. She told herself that enough times she was almost starting to believe it when her son broke her out of her reverie.

"Mommy, are we going to the beach?" They went on a walk every night after Din’s call, but she’d waited so long she was late for her stroll with her son. He’d never let her forget though.

"Yeah, sure. I'm coming."

They've walked 20 minutes one way saying cordial ' _hellos_ ' to the other beach-walkers and turned to head back to the house before it got too dark to see, when she spots a figure she thought she recognized, but couldn’t possibly be seeing.

Her mouth drops open when she focuses on the familiar face walking towards her. 

"What are you doing here?” she manages to get out, as she walks up to Din of all people.

"Surprise?” he says, and hands her a few flowers he’d gotten at the airport. “I wanted to see you."

"--I --what--how long are you staying?" She could barely string words together.

"Actually, I'm here for two months,” he tells her.

"Two months?" How?" She was shocked. How did he manage to get that kind of time off?

"I applied for a job with the city. The one you suggested. The ticket was one way. I thought about maybe moving down here if things work out."

"Where are you staying?" she asks. It doesn’t matter, but she has so many questions and that’s an easy one.

"A small inland hotel until I can find a condo,” he says. “I'm on probation for 60 days since it's a city job."

She's in shock. _He would really move down here for her?_

He mistakes her shock for hesitation.

"If that's not what you want.....I won't bother you, I just thought maybe.......we could take it slow...... see where it goes, like you said."

"I--I do. We can. I mean, I'd like that. Can you be patient with me?"

"I want to go slow too," he admits. "I've known you for a year, but I'd like to get to know you all over again, in person this time."

She nods, a smile clear on her face. She likes that plan.

"I hope I surprised you," he says, and she can feel his uncertainty if he’s done something good or mis stepped. 

"You did," she assures him. She's never had such a real and honest surprise before.

"A good surprise, I hope?" he asks, hopefully.

She smiles at him even wider. "Definitely." The hidden meaning behind his gesture wasn't lost on her. He was choosing _her_ \--changing his whole life to show her how much she meant to him. It was the best kind of surprise.

"Mommy, who is that?" asks the little boy hiding behind her legs.

"This is Din," she tells Aiden. "He's my friend." ......they might be more than that, but the descriptor would make sense to a four-year-old. Afterall, all the best relationships started out as friends. Theirs certainly had, and it had only blossomed from there the past year.

He peeks his head out as he recognizes not just his name but also his voice. She reaches around and picks up the boy to let him know everything's okay. "You know Din. You talked to him on the phone, remember?"

The little boy nods. His brown hair falls over his eyes when he rests his head on her shoulder. 

“Hey kid,” Din says, and waves. He doesn’t want to scare him, despite talking to him on the phone most nights. Meeting in person was so very different.

"We were going to head back for dinner and then it's his bedtime," Cara tells Din, still amazed she’s talking to him face to face and not on the phone. She wants to reach out and touch him.

"Would it be okay if I called you tomorrow, then?” he asks. “Sorry I was late calling tonight. It would have given away the surprise."

"I have a better idea,” she suggests, “why don't you come have dinner with us?"

"I wouldn't want to impose."

"Don't be ridiculous,” she says. “Maybe once he goes to sleep, we can have a drink on the porch and catch up for a while." She reaches out to take his hand.

He squeezes her hand and laces his fingers with hers—he’d been missing her touch all the time they'd been apart, and wanting to see her again so badly after they’d become closer he could hardly stay away another day.

"I'd like that,” he says honestly. He’d like anything they got to embark on together.

“Let’s go.”

.......................the end.......................

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading as always. I know AU aren’t everyone’s jam so thanks for making it to the end. I hope you enjoyed this labor of love.  
> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed being at the beach with me for a while.  
> Back to space for these two for the next stuff I promise!  
> Until next time, friends.


End file.
